It's Only Black and White
by Listen Out Loud
Summary: Rage and Reason rest inside the human shell of a young woman trapped under the cold mercies of Umbrella. Wesker/OC. Rating subject to change.
1. Let's Start at the Very Beginning

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything from Resident Evil (weeping)**

**I know it promises Wesker-y awesomeness, but I had to start from the ground up, so we'll get to him later. Please review.**

**Advance Warning: Some swearing**

*RE*RE*

When I was a little kid, my dad would run my toy trains off the bendable plastic tracks to illustrate the need for progression and the consequences of too great a leap in knowledge. I just laughed and made train noises. The typical five year old, I assure you.

Me parents told me they named me Alena for my bright, intelligent disposition as a child. I merely found it amusing that my initials were A.D.D., as I was nowhere alert enough to earn that title. Alena Davis. The girl who could never do anything right.

I wasn't physically perfect. Not even close. I was two sizes bigger than my friends, always the girl who built chunky muscle instead of graceful lean legs that seemed to stretch forever. I couldn't hold a job for more than a couple of months. I wasn't finished with med school, where I managed to hold onto a meager B average, so no hospital wanted to hire me yet. I couldn't stay in a relationship, finding that no one wanted to stay with the girl who was different from her cohorts. I was too short (5'4'' to be precise) or too thick bodied, or perhaps I was too aggressive, or not social enough. Then again, letting your boyfriend take… advantage of you and coming home to find him screwing your best friend might put things in perspective.

It was almost a relief to come home.

Almost.

While on break from school, I visited my parents, unhappy as I was to have to spend two weeks with them or, and I quote, "You'll find yourself lacking in tuition funds". Living in a small town on the very edge of the suburbs of a medium size city of no real importance, my parents house had never been my ideal place to grow up. I wanted sun and palm trees, not Victorian style houses and perfectly manicured front lawns in the mid-eastern US. However, the break from my hectic, disconnected college life came as a Godsend.

It wasn't two days before trouble cropped up in the unlikeliest of places.

At first there was the news of Raccoon City being overrun by… something. It was all the Umbrella Corporation's fault. My dad told me to keep taking my pills anyway.

A personal note. I had been prescribed medication to take every day, twice a day, since I could remember. My parents had fed it to me before that. As the pharmaceutical monopoly of the day, Umbrella's red and white rosette was prominent on the back of the medicine bottle. The bottle, my parents, and my doctor told me it was for my cardiovascular and neurological systems. Apparently, I had had heart troubles that had led to brain troubles in the womb blah blah blah. I just shut up and took the pills.

Anyway, it was all Umbrella's fault at the time. Then it was a hoax in order to bring down the largest medicine supplier in the world by some rouge STARS agents. Some guy and his lady friend. I really couldn't have cared less at the time. It didn't affect me in any direct way. It wasn't until the riots started everywhere that anything got suspicious. Communications with major cities were lost. People disappeared. Animals went berserk on owners and passerby. I stayed with my parents even after term started. My mom had gotten breast cancer, genetically inherited of course, and my dad needed help with my little sister and the daily running of a suburban house. I grudgingly stayed behind, glad for the slightly depressing distraction.

When the riots started in the next city over, my dad decided we had better hit the supermarket for canned goods before the crowds started rushing in. Kira, my white and gold mutt, tagged along, curling up next to me in the back seat and whimpering the entire time. So much for the "killer guard dog" her name implied. My dad drove.

He was twitching the whole drive. I didn't question anything, as he had had several nervous breakdowns already. It wasn't until he started swerving without noticing that I got nervous. I told him to hit the brakes, which he did… sort of. Although the car was still going forty miles an hour, I leaned forward between the front seats to check on him. As I opened my mouth, he let go of the steering and turned sharply towards me, wrapping his hands in a chokehold around my neck. Gasping for breath, I saw him open his mouth, an odd hissing and growling erupting from him. Even through my watering eyes, I was stunned by the dead, white film in his eyes. His vein were protruding oddly, an ugly brown color against his slowly graying skin. My dog snarled and bit his arm, forcing him to let go of me in order to pay attention to the dog. Unfortunately, this meant no one was paying attention to the road.

Careening out of control, the car made a now sixty mile an hour beeline for the side of the road. Without thinking, I grabbed Kira and rolled over the middle row of seats into the far back, curled up in an extremely uncomfortable position with my dog, which was now snarling and growling madly.

The next thing I remember was a jolt so hard that, when my head hit the next solid object, I went temporarily blind. There was a rush of heat and light around me, as well as a strangled squealing, before everything went back to a crumpled, jumbled mess. Gingerly, I raised my head, holding down the need to puke as the world spun around me.

When I came completely to, all that remained of the car was a skeleton of charred metal and the remnants of a few rows of seats and undercarriage. I hadn't thought cars were quite this flammable. My father was a black lump in the driver's seat.

A strangled sob escaped me as I tumbled out of the car, my quivering dog leaning against my legs. No cars passed us. I was alone, but only a few blocks from our destination. Feeling bruised and slightly burnt, I began staggering in the direction I assumed led home, sobbing madly and pulling at my frustratingly curly and badly singed red-brown hair.

I had only gotten a mile or two, huffing and clutching at my sore, possibly cracked, ribs when the thing rushed at me. I recognized whatever it was to be one of the town council members, Mr. Campbell.

"M-Mr. Ca-camp-bell," I wheezed, relief flooding me. The thing staggered forward oddly, hissing and growling much like my father. It was then that I realized that no matter what I said, I would get no response from this thing that was slowly approaching me.

With nowhere else to go but backwards, I stumbled once, and ran down the road, my dog trotting next to me passively. Upon seeing the store, I sped up, gratefully wheezing as the glass doors opened onto a gleaming, empty supermarket. Elevator music echoed weirdly up and down the deserted aisles.

I whipped out my phone, shakily dialing my home phone number. Soot stained fingers left fingerprints on the softly glowing numbers.

"Aly?" a thin voice screeched.

"Evy? Evy, what's wrong? Are you all right? Where's mommy?" I stammered into the speaker, hands shaking. Evangeline, my six year old sister, was sobbing into her end of the phone.

"She's outside my door Aly. She won't listen to me and looks funny. She all gray and-" I heard a crack and a little girl's scream. The same gurgling, hissing noise my father had made crackled through the speaker. "No mommy, please sto-" A screech and sobbing as a wet, sucking sound echoed through the hone before it cut off with a snap. I dropped the phone from my numb fingers. What was going on?

Sinking against the wall, I stared directly at the shelf in front of me. Kira whined, pressing her wet nose against my cheek.

"They're gone Kira," I murmured. My parent's perfectly ordered world was crumbling around my ears and my own stained and cracked existence was cracking farther, leaving something changed inside my mind and heart. I had to survive. I had to move.

Confused and dazed, I did what my instincts told me to. I grabbed a light weight hiking backpack from the first shelf in the camping aisle, ripping off the tags as staggering onwards. Filling it with rope, bottled water, several bottles of iodine, gauze bandages, splint sticks, burn ointment (which I used on my own burns first), and disinfecting gel, I went to the clothing lane. Changing outside a private room seemed odd, but I ignored my red cheeks and continued to snatch the necessary items off of racks and hangers.

Food came next. I packed the least perishable items on the bottom, pausing only to grab a can opener from a shelf. Kira followed me silently, claws clicking loudly on the linoleum floor. Sniffing at a raw chicken breast, she grabbed it from the bin and ripped through the paper to devour the contents in minutes. I stopped to grab canned spam for her without thinking.

Still not sure why I was doing what I was doing, I wandered mindlessly into the hunting section of the store. My only excuse was that, as my father was definitely_ not_ crazy, nor was he physically ill, whatever he had become wasn't the end. Although I didn't know it at the time, I was spot on.

Bush machete, throwing knives, whetstone, it all went into sheaths and pouches, which I then strapped to my thighs, forearms, and waist. Guns. I hated guns. However, I knew that I would inevitably regret not taking one. Two pistols (with silencing additions) and a shotgun. I couldn't bear to touch any others. Extra bullets and shot guns shells went into the pouches of my backpack.

Hoping I wouldn't have to use the weapons I had grabbed, I was just about to leave the store for good when something caught my eye. Hunting bows. Crossbows and long bows alike, they hung tantalizingly close by on the wall. Chewing my lower lip, I crossed my arms, finally deciding to give into my whim. A golden brown compound bow was now slung across my shoulder. A quiver of goose feather arrows hung at my waist. I turned, convinced to leave without turning back, when I caught a glimpse of myself in the wall mounted mirrors. A wide-eyed girl of twenty and four years stared back.

Blushing crimson, I walked away, staring adamantly at the ground. I thought I looked like a little girl playing dress up in an action movie costume closet. I was dressed in all black, cargo pants and leather jacket making me reminisce about all the fantastic action flicks universally panned by critics. My long, black, unruly hair was pulled back off my face in a frizzing braid, showing the long cuts on my cheeks as they scabbed over. Dirt and soot smeared all over my visible skin. I hastily scrubbed a palm over my face, hoping to clear the last traces. As soon as the glass doors slid open onto the seemingly deserted streets of my little "Mayberry", the hissing and growling of hungry masses reached my ears.

What had been a quiet, empty street was now a street teeming with neighbors and friends, some dead and others… not so much.

In the time that I stood, frozen in horror as I watched sweet old Miss Montgomery chase down a little girl, my mind went into overdrive. My heart went became numb, no longer caring, but instead, cold and calculating. I couldn't afford to care about the people around me. To do so would be a certain death sentence. My mom and sister were no longer my concern; they were dead or infected, as I would be soon if I didn't get out of here immediately.

Kira snarled and butted my legs with her thick head, pushing me back into reality and down the sidewalk. I managed to get twenty yards before Miss Montgomery, having moved on from her previous meal, turned her glassy eyes on me, mouth overflowing with the life-blood of a human.

As she shuffled towards me, I clicked the safety off the pistol at my thigh and aimed with cold calculation, trying not to think of the times when she had invited me in for lemonade and cookies as a child. The bullet smashed through her head, throwing her skull back from the force of the point blank shot. She crumpled to the ground and I turned, careful to avoid touching the blood of scattered bodies. Some were beginning to stir lazily. Soon they would be hungry. _I'll do anything to keep my heart cold as ice. Anything to keep me from feeling ever again,_ I thought harshly. This time I ran, ignoring everything expect my dog. _Only her_, I promised myself. I would care only for her.

I ran until I started seeing spots caused by mental and physical fatigue, then I collapsed into the loam and pine needles of the country land, having made it out of hell and into a place I was not trained to survive in. I would have to learn uickly, without human aid. If I failed to fight, I would die and become the brainless, hungering beast I had encountered. If I failed to survive, my body would lie in the open air, a convenient meal for a passing animal or zombie.

My newly emotionless heart allowed me to forsake the grieving stage in lieu of the survival stage. Tears and sadness would come later, when I wasn't in danger of getting my throat ripped out. I had to keep walking, that I knew.

It wasn't until later that I remembered my medication, sitting forever more on top of the dresser in my parent's guest bedroom. Considering I immediately didn't die of a heart attack, stroke, or seizure within twenty-four hours, I put it out of my mind.

But my story doesn't get interesting until later, after I had picked up the trade of living it rough. I could hunt, and having a dog helped immensely in finding the critters… or the infected. I could avoid the zombies by keeping away from big cities, but the occasional need for unavailable goods overrode that knowledge every so often. I stole what I couldn't find, I took what wasn't claimed, and I moved every day, never staying anywhere for longer than one night.

A crank radio I had found after a couple of months alerted me to the presence of an infection free town called Arcadia. No infection, food, safety, a home for the wandering soul… it sounded like a Utopia in this dystopian world. That became my goal. Having a goal put all other distractions out of my mind.

However, I never found Arcadia. Instead, I found a place called Paxsalus. I figured out the irony of such a name later. Peace and safety. A crude running together of Latin in order to trick the human race. We were nothing but chattel to them. We were told Arcadia had been lost to militants who wished for violence and an end to peace for the human race. AS if that hadn't been destroyed already! And yet we believed them, at least for a while.

Located along the coast of northern California, I arrived in Paxsalus before it had been filled to capacity. It had been openly established by the Umbrella Corporation, whom everyone had already concluded to be the source of the infection. People were skeptical at first. When those desperate enough to finally seek aid arrived and were admitted into the settlement, more and more of what remained of American humanity trickled in. No one died when the gates opened. A simple test for residual infection and kapow, you were taken care of for the rest of your miserable, fucking life.

After spending several days observing the growing area, I decided that whatever lay inside the heavily fortified walls of Paxsalus couldn't be worse than what lay in the cities tens of miles away. I took the test. I passed, although they made Kira take it, and me once again after hers. After waiting for what felt like hours in a stark white "reception" room, I was admitted with a smile and a set of new clothes, which I accepted, both grudgingly and (secretly) happily. It seemed weird to me, both the behavior and, as my dazed and dead tired mind reminded me, that I was now a small in most clothing.

A personal side note: When I began my solo journey across America, I had been… thicker bodied. Not fat, but not thin. I was a runner, but not the stick and bone runners that were often my competitors. I had muscle, but a layer of fat I lovingly referred to as my "blubber". It used to keep me warm in the winter before the desert had reclaimed the planet. But life couldn't be stopped and soon even that had passed, this time with wildlife naturally immune to the T-virus. When I began to ration my food, I had lost a significant amount of body mass. I now had the body I had always wanted, and, ironically, I hated it. Being leaner than I had ever been before reminded me that everything had gone wrong. That nothing ever went right.

I was given a dormitory assignment and told to meet in the general hall at 0800 the next day. I was asleep before I hit the pillow, only pausing to put out my last tin of spam for Kira before falling onto the first bed I'd slept in for the past four years.

*RE*RE*

Dressed in my new duds, a fitted white, long sleeved shirt, new underclothes, and my old black cargo pants, I pushed open the swing door to what was labeled "General Assembly". Armed guards had stood outside, ensuring order as what seemed to be the entirety of Paxsalus filtered in through the doors. There were few open chairs, as the population of Paxsalus had almost reached its limit. I choose a seat to the far left of the auditorium, more towards the back than the front. I slouched in my seat, earning a few disapproving looks from some of the older men and women sitting around me. I stared back with a blank face until they looked away.

I twirled the end of my carefully plaited braid around the end of my finger. My wavy, black hair, now fully grown back, had reached a length I found both ludicrous and comforting. I was careful to keep it back and keep it clean.

I heard a few people shushing others as the light on the podium grew stronger. Crossing my arms, I fingered the point of the knife I had stashed in the arm guard of my left forearm. I had allowed the gate security to take my shotgun upon arrival, but I had managed to hide most of my knives and my two pistols during the pat down. Cleavage was a marvelous thing, almost like having an extra pocket that no one was perverted enough to search. Curiously enough, they had let me keep the well-worn bow and arrows, probably deeming them too primitive to do much damage against their automatic weaponry.

A pretty blond stalked confidently to the podium, a purple jumpsuit defining her near perfect frame. I couldn't help but be envious. Giving the large crowd a once over with serious hazel eyes, she spoke into the microphone softly. She needed no speakers; her voice was authoritative enough to keep an audience quiet even in the most raucous of times.

"Day 213 since the founding of Paxsalus. No trace of infection. No sign of shortage in food stores. Keep up the good work," she said flatly, as if reading off a list. "Two new residents," she continued. _Oh, fuck_, I thought to myself, trying to slide lower into my seat. "Miller, Marcus. Please stand Mr. Miller."

On the other side of the room, a balding, middle aged man stood quickly, nearly knocking over his chair. I snorted quietly, earning a few more looks of disapproval, which I stubbornly ignored.

"What are your talents?" the woman snapped in a business-like manner.

Stammering nervously, the man, Marcus, muttered something as his face turned beet red.

"Speak up." She ordered, her tone implying that she normally got her way.

"I-I was a-a c-c-car mechanic, s-s-so I c-can…" he blurted out.

"Mr. Thomas, he'll be with you," the woman interrupted, looking directly at a man out of my line of vision.

A sudden prickling feeling ran down the nape of my neck. The small hairs rose and my gut ached in a way that I knew, from experience, meant that I was being watched. My eyes roved in a one-eighty degree arc, flicking back to certain points to check for any movement in my direction. Finding no one, I pretended to stretch, holding the back of my chair as I pivoted at the hips in order to "crack" my back. As I stretched to my left, I caught sight of a man in the last row, almost completely hidden in darkness, looking right at me.

The term "looking" would have to be used lightly, as he was wearing dark sunglasses, but I felt the eye contact in the fraction of a second before I whipped around again, the tips of my ears turning a definite shade of pink. He was quite attractive, with slicked blond hair and a ruggedly square jaw. Oddly enough, he seemed to prefer a wardrobe of black leather, considered ostentatious even in this backwards world.

"Davis, Alena," the woman barked, making my heart skip a beat as I physically avoided an instinctive flinch. I stood slowly, cautiously, before she could order me to, forcing her to eat her words just as she opened her mouth. She shot me an almost invisible look of annoyance before snapping, "What are your talents?"

Immediately I knew that this woman would have to be dealt with carefully. She was powerful enough that I couldn't overstep many lines, however, I was stubborn enough not roll over onto my back and display my soft, gushy, and, quite frankly, necessary innards to her. I eventually decided on toeing the line enough to make it clear that I was not one to be ordered around like Mr. Miller.

"Can you be more specific?" I asked, politeness dripping like honey from my tone. Her eyes narrowed imperceptibly.

"By talents, Miss Davis, I mean something, anything, you can manage to do without many errors," she said slowly, as if speaking to a child.

"Well, yeah, I get that, but you're gonna have to be more specific than _that_." I replied amicably. Her upper lip rose slightly, showing her obvious impatience.

"Explain," she demanded. I uncrossed my arms and began ticking off on my fingers as I spoke.

"Well, for one, I've made it all the way across the United States, or, at least, what's left of it, without serious injury and with a dog. That obviously means I can hunt, fight, survive, and, in general, fend for myself and another. If by "talents"," I said, using finger quotes, "you mean what I did before the shit hit the fan, then I was studying to become a doctor. _That's_ what I mean by being more specific in what you wanna know." Having finished, I shifted my weight to one hip and crossed my arms, refusing to break eye contact with the purple clothed woman.

Smirking, she seemed to finally come to a decision. "Mr. Anderson," she said, looking at a man to my right, "she'll be in your patrol." I glanced over at the man she spoke to, trying to remember his face so that I might find him later. Sitting back down, I crossed my legs as the now familiar prickling feeling grew again and remained. My ears once again turned a bright shade of pink, but I refused to turn around this time. Luckily, she had little else to say as, almost immediately after she had assigned me to Anderson, a man in full military gear hurried onto the stage and whispered something into her ear. Looking grim, she marched off in front of him.

Murmuring, the crowd seemed to take this as a dismissal, and, following the flow of traffic, I wandered outside into the sunlight. A hand grabbed my forearm and, spinning in a quick reaction, I only barely kept myself from socking Mr. Anderson's nose.

"You're the Davis girl," It was a statement, not a question. Scowling, he said "You'll be with the Beta patrol team. We keep the woods clear of infected or Others. Meet at the front gates in exactly one hour. If you have any sort of protective gear or ranged weaponry, bring it, although I doubt Umbrella let you keep the good stuff. We'll provide you with anything you're missing," he paused, scratching his stubble as he looked me up and down. I looked him in the eyes, chin up to keep from turning red. He shrugged. "You either have to be extremely foolish or very brave, but, considering what I've heard from you, I'd have to assume both." He turned away and, hands in his pockets, walked down the street.

"What do you mean?" I asked his retreating back.

He turned and fixed me with a stare that would cow most men.

"It's a _very_ bad idea to fuck with Jill Valentine."


	2. Dead Friends Tell No Tales

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Resident Evil.**

**Advance Warning: Some swearing**

It was 0930. The sun had burned away any lingering mists. The sky darkened to a baby blue unparalleled anywhere else in the US. There was no roar of ever-hungry infected. There was no aching hunger in the pit of my stomach. There were no imagined eyes watching from every crack in every wall of every building. I had been in Paxsalus for three months. I had not been bitten by a monster. I had not been attacked by a decaying beast. For the moment I considered myself safe. For the moment, I imagined the world as it once was. That moment lasted no longer than was rational.

Anderson's snarling bark snapped me out of my reverie as I approached the team. Berkley nodded once as I came up beside him. The tall black man carried his favorite weapon, a miniature grenade launcher that rested easily on his shoulder. Kira licked his leg and wagged her tail once. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the faint smile that quirked the corner of his mouth before it set back in the usual straight line. Kira and Berkley had connected almost the instant they had met. In fact, the entire Beta patrol had fallen in love with my faithful mutt. Despite having nine years under her metaphorical belt, Kira was still lean and spry, hunting out the most difficult to find targets.

The Beta Patrol was one of five patrols that monitored the area around Paxsalus. Having been informed that the militants who had taken the Arcadia were planning on infiltrating our settlement, our job was to find and observe any bases or operatives that we found nearby. Our team, the second best hunting patrol on base, as implied by the name, consisted of five civilians. Mark Anderson was the close range expert, the "Papa" of the team. Kevin Romaine, the "Cleric", was the hand-to-hand fighter and our resident doctor, although I had been delineated some of his less pressing tasks and he never had to enter the fray as often as the rest of us might. Susan Wells was our "Geek", working to ensure com security and functionality. George Berkley was our "Tank", the heavy duty warrior who tended to charge into situations without clearance… or forethought, for that matter. I was our "Longshot", the long range fighter. I had shown myself to be proficient enough for their liking with my bow and arrows. My silenced pistols and throwing knives were a bonus when I had displayed them afterwards. In my black camouflage, I was the one who snuck up on the target, eliminating them without alerting their mates. So far, I had chalked up four kills in the three months I'd been with the team. None of the Arcadians were stupid enough to try and get into Pax, but we always found some who were looking for information to bring back to their own headquarters.

The first time I had been ordered to kill a man who was tracking another one of the Paxsalus teams through the woods, I had hesitated, asking what the people like him had done to deserve our ire. Because of my hesitancy, Berkley had gotten shot in the shoulder. I had killed the man immediately after I saw him take the shot. We carried Berkley back to Paxsalus where, just before he passed out on the stretcher the medics had brought, he pressed an old photograph into my shaking hands. It was of a woman and two small boys, children around the age of five or six.

Anderson had later explained that Berkley and his family had been one of the first to approach Umbrella and Paxsalus for help. When his wife and boys had gone outside the settlement walls to collect the crops Umbrella allowed the citizens to harvest, the militants had shot them down in cold blood.

From then on, I never hesitated if I had a shot.

"All right men," Anderson growled as the gates were unlocked by several Umbrella guards. "And women," he added in response to Wells's and my cocked eyebrows. "We have the co-ordinates for a suspected underground bunker, possibly from a group of elite guards. We want to find out who, or what, they're trying to smuggle into Pax. Don't be seen. Our orders are to observe and report, not engage. Got that? Don't shot. Remember, we _never_ fail. We are the best."

"Yeah, actually, I was wondering about that," I asked, feeling my inhibitions melt away as the pre-hunt adrenaline kicked in. "Beta is the second letter in the Greek alphabet. I took Latin in high school," I said in response to Romaine's confused look. "If we're second, then who's the best?"

Anderson's eyebrows furrowed as he opened his mouth to respond. His eyes flicked over my right shoulder and widened slightly. Blood draining from his face, he stared palely behind me. I sighed and turned, not knowing who or what to expect.

"That would be my team," a deep voice drawled. Taking a step back in surprise, I looked up and squinted against the glare of the sun. My own eyes widened. Smirking down at me was the man from the long ago assembly. The man I had felt watching me from the shadows. I couldn't help but admit that he looked even better in good light, especially now that he was dressed in a high end leather suit and long coat.

"Actually Mr. Anderson I was going to, ah, _suggest_ that Miss Davis accompany me," He said, arrogantly leaving no room for any argument. Anderson could only nod mutely in acquiescence. "Marvelous." The man grabbed my arm, pulling me away from my team. A shock ran through my body and I suppressed a gasp with some difficulty. Kira snarled angrily, bristling unlike she had ever before. Snarling and barking, she leapt at the man, jaws open for the attack. Almost lazily, he side stepped the attack, still managing to keep a hold on my arm. Kira landed gracefully, spinning and leaping in the renewed attack. This time, he didn't move as she neared. Stretching out his hand, he grabbed my dog by the throat, slowly crushing her esophagus.

"Bad dog," he said, smiling cruelly. I froze before reacting furiously.

"No!"" Aly, don't!" I heard my team shout leaping forward to restrain me. I held my knife to his throat, pressing hard enough to draw his blood.

"Let her go, you bastard," I snarled, my vision clouding over with a red haze. Everyone froze, my struggling dog the only thing moving. "NOW!" I screamed. He dropped her, holding my gaze even through his impenetrable shades. I moved away from him, crouching over my wounded friend. I looked up at him through the stray hairs that had come loose from my braid. "If you _ever_ touch her again, I _will_ kill you. Is that clear?" I hissed angrily at him. To my rage, he merely looked amused, like he'd proven something.

"Crystal," he murmured. I picked up my dog, carrying her over to the protective circle of my Beta Patrol and put her down. Having regained some of her breath, she looked up at me, eyes roving through the space between Well's legs to rest on the man's figure. Her lips rose and a rumbling growl echoed through her chest. I moved into her line of vision and she ceased. Wheezing, she managed to stand.

"You've gotta _go home_," I ordered her. Her big brown eyes stared at me from under her lashes. "Go to _Mindy and Kim_, they'll take care if you," I told her, putting emphasis on my order and the names of my next door neighbors kids. They adored Kira and would have kept her to themselves if she hadn't followed me everywhere. She whined a complaint. "Now, baby." I stressed, stroking the top of her square head. Complaining in the way only dogs could, with puppy eyes and a bowed head, she trotted obediently back down the street, turning occasionally to watch me until she had moved far enough out of my sight. At last I stood, turning to take a long stride, pushing my way out of the circle made by my team.

"I stay here, with my team. With my family," I told the man, looking him square in the eye as I inwardly fumed. I felt them move slightly closer behind me. It was almost humorous. A group that kills together, stays together. "Umbrella does not control me. Not now, not ever." He laughed almost happily.

"I think you'll find that to be the wrong decision," he told me, the ghost of a smirk on his lips.

"We shall see," I retorted, turning on him and striding at the head of my team out onto the cracked, decaying road that led to Paxsalus.

"Oh yes, we shall see." I thought I heard him murmur, although I knew that I shouldn't be able to hear him.

*RE*RE*

"This is Beta Longshot. I have a shot. Take or abort?" I muttered into my com set.

"This is Beta Papa. Abort, Longshot. Our orders are to observe, not eliminate," the tinny voice of Anderson echoed in my ear. I released the tension in my bow string, lowering the bow, but leaving the arrow on the string. The muscles in my arm groaned at the sudden lack in tension.

"You sure are trigger happy today, Longshot," the deeper voice of Berkley said.

"Well, considering who she ticked off, I'm really not surprised, Tank," Anderson replied. I heard a small click and knew he was now talking singularly to me, having switched to a different frequency. "I once told you it was a bad idea to tick off Jill Valentine, yes?" I stayed silent, knowing he didn't want me to reply yet. I had already figured out my punishment from her. Putting someone in a position where it's likely for them to get shot or killed in numerous other ways isn't the best way to make friends. "Do you know how much trouble it's going to cause, what you've done now?"

"And what exactly have I done?" I muttered, feeling as if he was fuming right beside me.

"You've gone and fucked with Wesker!" he said as quietly and angrily as possible.

"Who?" I asked politely, keeping my eyes on the sentry below and ahead of me.

"He's the mother fuckin-…!" a crackle and static.

"Papa? Papa this is Longshot, do you copy? Papa, report!" I hissed, getting nothing. Switching back to the main com frequency, I snapped, "Beta team, Longshot. Papa is non-responsive. Do you copy?" Static. "Beta team, do you copy?" Still nothing. "Bloody tech," I muttered, swinging one-handed from my position and free-falling into a rolling landing. Muttering discontentedly, I stalked through the undergrowth, slipping through small areas silently to remain undetected.

I did a constant one-eighty with my head, keeping a look out for the others. As I stepped around the base of an ancient oak, I tripped and fell, rolling on my side and coming into a crouch with an arrow already notched on my bow. Looking back, I felt my heart skip a beat. Lying on the ground, face up, was Anderson. Throat ravaged, his face was a look of utter horror as he stared upwards with glassy, dead eyes. Breathe hitching in my throat, I put down my bow, scooting forward to touch Anderson carefully. He was still warm.

Heart pounding erratically, I picked up my bow, crashing through the undergrowth without a care who heard me. This time, I saw the hand before I saw the whole body. Lying, once again, face up, Wells lay on the ground with the same wounds, the same expression. Only pausing to close her eyes, I dashed on, fearing the worst. I found Romaine next. Everything was the same. Sobbing, and knowing what I'd find, I raced onwards to Berkley's last known position.

When I found the body, I dropped to my knees, moaning as the heart I had thought stone broke. I kneeled and gently cradled Berkley's head in my lap, closing his eyes. Hiccupping, I began humming a song he had mentioned playing for his children before the outbreak. It was sad. It was sweet. It spoke volumes and said nothing. Brokenly, I heard myself half-humming, half-sobbing.

Movement behind me bothered me not. Voices behind me bothered me not. I began to hear them more clearly when the song came to an end.

"I said, turn around with your hands up, Umbrella filth!" a female snarled as I felt something cold and hard press to the back of my head. I remained motionless as the last tears dipped down my face and dried quickly in the hot air. What are you deaf? Turn around, damnit!"

I felt rage building up through me. Hate and anger burned like a wildfire through my veins, eating up all my thoughts and emotions. My vision tunneled and a hazy red mist rimmed my vision. I heard another person, a man crash through the undergrowth with amazing clarity.

"Claire? Claire, what the hell! What are you doing?" a man asked furiously.

"She's Umbrella, Chris! What am I supposed to do? She must be thicker than the infected. I've been talking to her for the last few minutes and all she does is hum and cradle the big guy on the ground. I think she killed him," she hissed back.

At her last few words, I felt my anger boil over. Roaring in fury, I pivoted as I leapt up, hearing gunshots and feeling the bullets whizzing through my loose hair. I tackled the first body I came into contact. Chris grunted and fell back. Snapping out my foot when he rose, I knocked him back onto the truck of a tree, leaping after him as the female, Claire shouted at me. My guns forgotten as the instincts kicked in, I pulled both my knives, kicking away his raised gun as I rushed him. Pushing him back, the tip of one blade dug into the fabric over his heart while the other dug into the skin at his throat. I snarled, cocking my head like an animal as I looked up at him.

"My God…" he whispered as he looked me in the eyes. I heard Claire shout at me to let him go or she'd shoot. I ignored her without even considering her words.

"Give me a reason. I'd love to kill their murderer. Was it you, big boy?" I snarled, my voice deeper and more feral than I'd ever heard it. My lips pulled back from my teeth, my face scrunching slightly.

"Claire, shut up!" he snapped at his friend. Turning his eyes back to me, he tried to sound calm even though I could feel his heart beating rapidly under the metal tip of my knife. "I didn't kill your… friends, are they? Look at them. That's definitely not how humans kill. They look like they've been attacked by some sort of animal…"

"Shut up!" I snapped. I didn't want my rage to be tainted with grief. "Liar! Why should I believe someone who'd kill innocents?" I felt Claire tense behind me, her gun still trained on my back.

"You think them innocents?" he half-laughed. "Umbrella agents are the cause of this entire shitty situation and you think them your "innocent friends"?" He looked incredulous.

"He was my friend, one deserving of revenge. _Your_ people slaughtered his family. He was never Umbrella. We cooperate with Umbrella to keep the _innocents_ of Paxsalus safe. The same people you and your friend would love to kill in order to get to Paxsalus's creators. They may have wronged the world, but we have not. And you killed them. Wells, Romaine, Berkley, and Anderson. They have names. They had people who loved them." I was furious, both of my knives pressing hard enough to draw tiny gens of his blood. Chris's eyes widened slightly.

"Anderson? Mark Anderson? He was one of us. You've got listen to me, I can help you…"

"_Help me_?" I snorted. "Why would I want your help?"

"Listen! When you attacked us, your eyes turned black, the whites and the irises," I twitched. "You…" An echoing roar and a scream cut him off. My eyebrows drew slowly together. A device on his watch blinked just before the booming sound of a shotgun echoed through the woods. His eyes grew wide quickly and he looked at Claire, who had a similar expression.

Another scream and Chris began struggling wildly. "Please, let me go! You've got to understand, I'm not the enemy!..." Another roar and the sound of a shotgun cut off sharply. "ALICE!" he shouted, throwing me off him as his adrenaline kicked in. He dashed off into the woods towards the noise.

"He actually entered the fray himself? Unusual…" Claire muttered before throwing me a look that was half-confused and half-pitying. She dashed off after her brother. I slumped, having gone too long in my fury without actually acting on any of my emotions. The red haze retreated from my vision. I gazed sadly at Berkley, feeling as if I had run a marathon at a dead sprint. I stretched out my hand and pressed a disk just over his sternum. It began to glow bright, neon yellow. Once Umbrella came to clean up the situation, they would be able to track his signal to this position and would take him back to Pax. I couldn't carry him and I had to do the same for the others. I would get their ashes. None of them had any family left, no one on any of the patrol teams did, so their ashes would go to their superior coordinator. That fell to me, as I was… the only one left alive from the Beta Team. Depressed as I was, my mind never registered this oddity. Still kneeling beside him I pulled the small picture he had once given me from my pocket, slipping it into his breast pocket, just over his heart. Retrieving my bow, I stood, looking back once to say, "I hope you can find them wherever it is you've gone," before I stumbled through the woods to each of my teammates' positions, pressing the disks to activate the signal. Not thinking quite clearly, I began wandering in the direction I hoped led to the beach.

The sun dipped slowly below the tree tops, alerting me to the late time. If I wasn't back before dark, I would not be allowed in the gates. I would either have to wait until morning or hope one of the guards recognized me and didn't shoot my head off. Honestly, I didn't care either way. I walked, even when my feet began to ache. I kept going, not really caring now about direction.

When the trees finally started to thin out, I saw sand and stones. A beach. I dropped my small pack and weapons on the sand, wandering down to the waterline. Kicking off my shoes, I sat on a rock, sticking my feet in the water and burrowing my toes into the malleable sand. I blankly watched the sun as it came closer and closer to the waterline. Like a red pearl, it perched just over the water, until, with a flash of orange light, it dipped its extremities into the waves.

Tears began to flow silently down my face as my shoulders shook. At the last flare of the setting sun, my mind wandered to a memory of one of our early patrols. Kira had seen a squirrel, a rarity these days. Barking madly, she had chased it and treed it. However, not comprehending the idea of up, she had raced madly around the base of the tree, looking thoroughly put out when she turned back to us, empty handed. The entire team had found had been laughing at her amusing antics, silly grins plastered on their faces as she came back over. A still of the team grinning like nothing in the world was wrong appeared in my head. _Goodbye_, I thought sadly. The picture faded slowly from my eyesight. I opened my eyes.

It was then that I allowed myself to break down. My salt tears mixed with the salt of the ocean as they flowed hot and thick. I couldn't stop myself, no matter how hard I tried. I don't know how long I sat there crying, but I remember total darkness, as there was no moonrise. Eventually, I staggered up the beach and collapsed in the sand, exhausted and empty. Everything I cared for, gone. My blood family killed by the T-Virus. My adopted family, killed by… I don't even know who or what. Confused and dazed, I dropped onto my hands and knees, refusing to puke, although my stomach disagreed with my mind. After shuddering in this position for what felt like hours, I finally keeled over onto my side, drawing my legs up into a fetal position.

I think I fell asleep after a long while. Shivering in the sand was almost cruelly comfortable.


	3. Hello, My Name Is

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything Resident Evil-y**

**This chapter is purposely short. I don't like writing a morose, depressed Alena.**

It was barely dawn when I awoke, the sun still too low to have burned away the thick mist that had settled during the night. My hair, unruly and damp from the collected moisture in the air, had been infested by the tiny granules of sand I slept on. I blinked blearily, not bothering to get up even after I had totally awoken.

First, I was merely confused as to where I was. Then the observations my mind unconsciously made began to piece together. Beach. Woods. Dried blood crusting on my hands, knees, face. Either I had violently killed someone or had knelt in a pool of blood. Suddenly I remembered. Dead. All of them dead. But I didn't cry. My grief had dried up during the night. Now I was merely numb, beyond feeling even the most basic emotions.

Blinking once, I turned over in the sand, almost surprised to feel a blanket over me. When had I done that? The side of my face in the sand, I saw a depression quite close by, as if someone had been sitting or standing nearby while I slept. Had I cared for anything at the moment, I might have freaked out, leaping up in order to reach my weapons before whatever had disturbed the area returned. In this case, I couldn't have cared less and took my sweet time in lumbering up the beach to my hastily discarded pack and gear, dragging the blanket from my pack behind me in one hand.

Shoving it carelessly into the main pouch, I holstered my weapons and hoisted my pack over my shoulder, starting down the beach towards the rising sun. I was forced to go barefoot as, oddly enough, my shoes were gone without a trace. The sand squeaked beneath my feet as I made my way steadily up the beach. There were no thoughts running through my mind, as I had realized a little while ago that, until this phase of mourning was over, I wouldn't feel anything worth mulling over. It was the same as after my family had passed, except that phase had come more quickly, just as the situation demanded. The phase had passed by quick enough once I had figured out what was an appropriate balance of survival and ethics. This time, I had the leisure of mourning time. I had that leisure and I despised the chance I got. Everything I had felt from my blood relatives' deaths had added to my team's death, making the emotions that had been stirring inside me yesterday twice as potent.

At last, I caught sight of the wall of Pax, dark gray and imposing even from a distance. The seaside I had previously been walking alongside had disappeared to be replaced with sheer cliffs that dropped suddenly into the ocean, which was pounding loudly against the side of the bleak rock face. The walls made a slightly irregular circle around the settlement, completely made of steel and iron. As I drew closer, I could just make out the day sentries, a mix of Umbrella agents and militarized Pax citizens alike, patrolling along the top of the wall. When I had drawn close enough to be spotted by the guards, I could make out a cry passed down the line. Several heads disappeared down from the top.

I came up the gates and looked up at the gun shafts pointing out.

"You gonna shoot me?" I asked dully, my arms rising from my sides only slightly. Mumbling behind the door before it cracked open. Two men shoved it open far enough for me to walk inside.

"You're supposed to be dead," one of the civilians said, lowering the muzzle of his gun.

"Thank you, oh ye of little faith," I muttered darkly. Without pausing for report or updates I walked down the side road, winding my way in and out of alleyways between the three and four floor buildings. I kept my eyes on the ground, ignoring surprised murmurs about my coat of blood or "miraculous" return from the dead. I fumbled with the door to my complex before dashing up the stairs, ignoring the cries of surprise and outrage when I ran through some kids' game of cards. I opened my own door on the top floor and walked inside, completely oblivious to Kira's welcoming bark. Completely oblivious to her concerned whine.

I had found the boxes. My team was in my room. My team now consisted of four small wooden boxes lined up neatly on my dresser. I glanced at them once before shrugging out of my backpack and gear. I walked over to my bed, right below my open window, and lay down, still fully clothed and still absolutely filthy with dirt and tears and sweat and blood. Kira, still complaining in her dog manner, managed to crawl into bed beside me, cuddling up with her wet nose, snuffling nose pressed against my jaw line.

Staring at the white wall on the other side of the room, I watched the line the sun made as it moved slowly up the wall as the sun set just outside my building. I didn't get up to satisfy any urge other than the call of nature. Eventually, the room had gone dark enough that I could only see the dark shapes made visible by the dim light from the streetlamp down the path. I heaved myself up with a grunt, grabbing a satchel from my closet. Carefully, I placed each of the wooden boxes into the bag, cinching the top tightly before tying off the strings.

Kira followed me silently this time, before turning and going home when I paused at the end of my street, her body too physically damaged to go long without rest, but still almost physic in her ability to know when I needed her presence as a form of comfort. I didn't make her stay, as I worried about her limp from yesterday's excursion with Wesker. Wesker… I now had a name for the man that I despised for his cruelty and his obvious enjoyment for the pain he made my dog suffer. I intended to put a mark on his pretty face the next time we met.

There was no one on the streets as I slowly marched to my set destination, as it was past curfew. I knew no one would stop me. A patrol member was allowed to stay out past curfew, as long as they didn't leave the settlement fully or disturb the peace. Berkley had once joked that that meant we could host toga parties with beer pong and open kegs. No one else had really found it funny. I still didn't find it funny.

For a moment, I allowed myself to imagine the path I followed, framed with patches of light from buildings and lamps, to be missing the ambiguous spaces where light and dark mixed just at the edge of the pools of light. Everything was in black and white, no longer in shades of gray. The dark was evil… or was it good? It had so much to hide, but it was comforting and soft. The light was good… or was it evil? It revealed everything it touched, but perhaps it was blatantly wrong. I blinked and the shades of gray returned. The human part of my brain mused that perhaps the world could never be seen in terms such as good and evil, or black and white, but must also consist of the gray that most people fell into. The logical, calculating side of my brain told the human side to shut up.

I stopped just before I walked over the cliff face. After about a half a mile from the walled perimeter, Paxsalus became more spread out and less populated, as the buildings were for overflow population. Eventually, there were no buildings because the land had yet to be developed for housing or other facilities. Having threaded through the pine trees and sparse underbrush with sand as the natural topcoat for the rocks underneath, I came to the point where the land dropped off into the ocean abruptly. I just stood there for a while. Just stood and watched the oil slick-black water splash up against the jagged, iron-colored rocks below.

Fishing the boxes from my pack, I sat cross-legged on the ground, placing each of the boxes in front of me. In accordance to their wishes, I was scattering their ashes into the Pacific Ocean. We had all agreed on this spot one evening after several of the Phoenix Patrol had perished while on night patrol. The patrols were ordered Alpha, Beta, Dragon, Phoenix, and Omega, with the infantry like Phoenix and Omega patrols having the most numbers. We had debated on the most dramatic place, time, and manner, finally deciding after a pack of beer and a single cigarette passed around on a bet. _If_ any of us were to die "in the line of duty", either the remaining teammates or the next commanding officers were to come to this spot at night. After mixing everyone together into one big mass of ash, whoever was throwing it was to wait for a big gust of wind before releasing the ashes so that we would all travel around the globe in the winds, forever a team united. Sniggering about the extreme sentimentality of it, we'd all laughed slightly drunkenly as Romaine and Wells had kissed heartily in front of us. They'd been laughing at the time, although both of them had since denied that it had ever happened.

Wrenching open the first box, Anderson's, I dumped the remains into the sack, remembering his gruff voice and demeanor that turned out to be nothing more than a show for his Papa Bear-like insides. Next went Berkley's, with all his strength, integrity, and laughter. Then Wells's, her brilliant mind and loyal heart adding to the wonderful and depressing mix. Finally, Romaine's remains, both the helping mind of a doctor and the mischievous smile of a prankster, finished the concoction of the best people I'd ever known.

Standing, I waited, judging the wind by the sweep of my dirty, badly kept hair. When there was a gust strong enough to obscure my view I threw the bag, pinching the bottom just enough that the contents were flung out at high momentum while the bag remained in my possession. Nearly tumbling over the side of the cliff due to the force and weight of the pack, I watched as the dark cloud dispersed and was swept up by the strong winds. I stood there for a few more minutes before turning.

Turning only to walk straight into someone who had been standing just behind me.

I stepped back in panic, forgetting where I stood. Foot colliding with air, I screamed as I fell backwards… only to find my forearm, flung out in the backwards tumble, caught in the iron grasp of the person's hand. My scream cut off suddenly, I used the person's counterweight to pull myself back up onto the sandy ledge. Gasping as my heart raced in my ribcage, I fumbled for my gun, only to realize that, in my state of complete denial and numbness, I had left both of them in my apartment, along with all my knives and my bow and arrows.

Scrambling sideways, I glared at the person, who remained upright, although swaying as if barely strong enough to do so.

"Are you Umbrella?" the person asked wearily. It was definitely a female as, although the voice was naturally husky, she had a feminine quality to her silhouette and tone.

"No." I said warily, keeping my eyes on her every movement. She took a half step forward.

"Good," she sighed. Then, "Please, I need your help,"

"Who are you?" I asked, slightly off set by her sudden request for aid.

"My name is Alice," she said, her voice betraying obvious fatigue. "Do you know a doctor?" She pulled her hand away from her side, reaching for my hand. She touched my hand and collapsed onto the ground. Lifting my hand up my face, I smelt the distinctive iron and salt tang of blood.


	4. I Told The Witch Doctor

**Disclaimer: I own nothing that even relates to Resident Evil**

**Warning: Teeny-tiny bit of swearing**

"_My name is Alice. Do you know a doctor?"_

Alice. She had a name, a past. It was a familiar name, one I'd heard recently. But so much was a blur; there were spaces in my memory that were fuzzy. But I'd heard it, that I was absolutely sure of. I'd stared at her in surprise at first, after she collapsed. Regaining my senses, I heaved her over my shoulder, slightly surprised at how light she was. Leaving my sack where I'd dropped it by the ledge, I concentrated on not dropping my wounded baggage.

I couldn't take her to the clinic. It would most likely be closed at this time, but Alice's obvious relief at my lack of Umbrella affiliation made me question her safety if I took her to their doctors. With Romaine… gone, there was only one other professional medic in the vicinity I might be able to trust. Maxwell Irmes. Possibly the most irritable, unhelpful man I've ever met. He'd been in Pax since it had opened, as, being nearly three fourths of a century old, he needed any help he could get. Due to his advanced age, he wasn't assigned a job like the rest of us, although he ran a side clinic in his spare time. He charged big for every patient, though usually not in money. It's been said that he hordes food and power packs, in case the infected ever get inside Pax. People have spread the rumor that he built a bunker that has a passage out of Pax, though no entry or exit site have ever been discovered and no tunnel has ever been seen in any ground surveys. Most people pass him off as a loony, but I know he can fix up this woman better than any Umbrella doctor and I was never trained for surgery or intensive injuries.

I trudged through the sand, slower this time, as she weighed me down a great deal in the malleable surface. When I finally got back to the paths of Pax, I was wary. Staying outside the circle of light created by the streetlights, I skimmed the edges of the buildings, keeping an eye and ear out for the night patrol coming around the corner. I muttered under my breath quietly as I retraced my steps, as finding my way around an unfamiliar section of the settlement, at night as well, was not an easy task. I was starting to struggle to keep her weight from slipping off my shoulder.

Finally, I spotted the slightly run down building with the long X scratched into the front door, Irmes's mark. I kicked the handle quickly, nearly toppling over as I tried to keep Alice's weight and my own steady. Taking the first opportunity, I put my leg in the door, using a nudge to keep it open enough for me to slip in. The dim florescent light flickered, as this was one of the oldest residences in Pax, populated only by the elders and those with disabilities. It was disgusting and infuriating. None of the people in here had family to look after them. None of these people had anyone they could depend on for help. What was truly sickening was that both Umbrella and the working citizens of Pax completely ignored their plight.

I staggered through the hallway, trying not to bump Alice on the rusty walls. Tetanus was not something else I wanted to have to deal with, as her open wound might get infected. I kicked at the bottom of Irmes's door, hoping he wasn't asleep. Or dead.

"What do you want?" a wheezy voice shouted through the door. I sighed. I'd awoken him and he wasn't likely to be in a charitable mood now.

"I've got a patient, so please open the door," I shouted back, hoping we weren't waking his neighbors as well.

"You got payment little girly?" he wheezed eagerly through the crack in the now opened door. His wrinkled eye peered brightly out.

"Of a sort," I said, hoping I could find something on me he wanted, as I hadn't thought to bring anything of value. It wasn't as if I expected dying people to find me in the middle of the night. He eyed me for a moment.

"Well, come in then and we'll see what we got," he undid the chain lock I knew wasn't regulation and opened the door wide enough for me to stumble through. I put Alice down on the first flat surface I could find, in this case, his couch.

"Oh, come now!" he said indignantly, waving his arms about after he closed the door. "You'll go and get blood on my nice couch!" Legs shaking, I heaved Alice up and laid her on the table Irmes indicated silently as he searched for his glasses. I sighed and put my hands on my knees, muscles shaking slightly from the strain of carrying her all the way to this apartment.

"Let's see now, what we got this time, hm?" Irmes muttered as he prodded Alice.

"A bullet in her side, if you want to speed up this process," I said, waving to her red tainted clothing. "It looks like it entered in through her left side from long range. I think the wound is pretty shallow. It may have grazed the large intestine and clipped some of the oblique muscles." Irmes turned to stare at me with a stern eye.

"If you think you know so much about healing, then why the hell did you bring her to me?" he snapped argumentatively.

"Because I'm not a surgical doctor, nor a witch doctor," I snapped back, holding his gaze. He shrugged and turned away.

"What are they teaching in medical school today?" he muttered to himself. He prodded Alice a few more times before lifting a thin pair of tweezers from a side table next to the one he had me put Alice. He quickly dug the tweezers into her side, digging the bullet out before she even had time to do more than screech unconsciously. Dropping the bullet, he dashed to another kit, pulling out bundles of white fabric while talking to himself.

"Hm, no not this one… but perhaps... bah, _this _one aaannd… this one. Yes, that will do nicely." He murmured, discarding certain packages back into the bag. Shuffling back over, he took the kettle from the table and threw items I couldn't see into the pot, stirring it with his finger. To my disgust, he sucked on his finger thoughtfully before nodding affirmatively. He turned back to me.

"You got any clean gauze? I'm out and as I'm not a legal physician…" I nodded and tossed him a roll from my pocket, mentally tallying it as part of my payment so as not to be cheated out of one of my last few rolls of gauze.

He soaked the gauze, cut with his teeth, in the mixture, which was now giving off copious amounts of purple-tinged steam. Having sufficiently soaked the bandages, he lifted up part of Alice's shirt and began wrapping the cloth around her middle, making sure to cover the wound well. Once it had dried into a hard band around her middle, he nodded and tugged the hem of the shirt back down. I knew what was coming next.

"What you got for me? My services don't come cheap." He said, greedily rubbing his hands together. I tried playing one of my cards.

"I could have taken her to the clinic, it is closer to my place after all," I protested. He snorted with a laugh.

"The _clinic_? Useless bunch of butchers. No one fixes a body with pills and machines and unnecessarily severed limbs. No, I am the best and you pay the best well. What you got?" I sighed inwardly.

"That roll of gauze should cover some of it. Er…" I searched my pockets, hoping to find something. I dug some food coupons from my pocket. They were for meals I had had to get before I'd been accepted as a full patrol member. Patrols didn't have to use the food coupons. I shoved those into his hands. He eyed them closely.

"This is good. But you give me a problem. Those… ingredients I used are rare… and expensive. I take gauze and coupons for my services and half of that cost. What else you got?" I threw up my hands, sighing exasperatedly.

"I don't have anything else to offer you, you asinine little man! I don't exactly have a need for expensive possessions." He looked at me appraisingly.

"You could pay with your own… services. That's how most of my girly clientele pay…" I gave him a look so dark, even he cowed slightly. I would never give _that_ to anyone unless… I shoved the thought aside.

"That's not for sale," I hissed between my clenched teeth. "I'll bring you game the next time I go on patrol." My throat constricted as I imagined leading an entirely new patrol out. I would be the commander, not Anderson. Had I been more ambitious, I might have reveled in it.

"Fine," he said grumpily, crossing his arms. "You take girly and go." He turned away and began cleaning up without looking at me. I went over to Alice, careful to carry her in my arms instead of over my shoulder. My muscles groaned at the new weight, but I ignored the fatigue, muttering a grunt of thanks, to which I received an equally peeved grunt in response. I staggered out of the complex, looking up and down the street before plodding along, keeping to the shadows.

Alice began shifting as I turned onto my street. Worried she might end up raising a commotion in an unfamiliar territory, I shuffled faster down the street, kicking the outer door open and practically diving into the space under the stairs, covering her mouth as I set her down.

Her eyes flashed open and she surged upward.

"Hush!" I commanded quietly, forcing her down with my forearm. "I'm not going to harm you, but if you continue like this someone _will_ hear us and you _will be found_." She settled, breathing quickly through her nose. I slowly lifted my hand from her mouth, praying she wouldn't scream or shout.

"Can you walk?" I whispered. She nodded and I offered her a hand, which she took. She staggered when she stood up completely, so I pulled one of her arms around my shoulders, wrapping my other arm around her torso to keep her steady. She gave a slight quirk of the head in acquiescence. Hobbled by her weight and weakness, climbing four flights of stairs was a trying task. Swearing fluently under my breath, I pulled us onto my floor, greeted by Kira, who was lying in front of my door.

Moving her out of the way with my toes, I nudged the door open and hurriedly sat Alice in my desk chair. Panting, I leaned against the dresser, flicking on a light in order to get a better look at my new companion. She gazed back, head lowered slightly, regarding me with intelligent blue eyes.

"You have a name?" she asked quietly, giving me a look that kept her thoughts hidden.

"Alena," I replied softly, trying to regain my breath.

"Is there a last name for Alena?" she asked, condescension in her voice.

"Does there have to be, just Alice?" I retorted. Silence. Then, "You don't trust me a bit, do you?" I asked.

"Not at all," she said haughtily. "Why should I?"

"Look," I said, shrugging slightly. "I already told you, I'm not Umbrella."

"Umbrella lies," a bitter response.

"But I don't." I said, a hard edge entering my tone.

"That could be another lie," she said. I realized her intent with this line of conversation.

"We're not going to get anywhere with this. Who are you stalling for? Friends? I don't intend to stop them. I don't know you-" I stopped short, the memory returning abruptly.

"You're _the_ Alice, the leader of Arcadia. So that means-" It was all coming quickly. "That means that the guy, Chris… Chris Redfield? And Claire was- fuck." I said, running a hand through my hair. What had I gotten myself into? "I let them live in the woods-"

"Or they let you live," she interjected.

"Whatever," I said waving a hand. "He told me-" I glanced at her, unsure if I wanted to reveal the startling information I'd received.

"If Chris told you something, you should listen," she advised seriously. "He's... he knows what he's talking about." She said, looking as if she wanted to say something else. I blew out a breath.

"He told me that when I attacked them… that my eyes turned black, completely black," I heard a sharp inhalation through her nose behind me. I turned, not willing to leave her out of my sights with my weapons lying so close-by on the floor.

"Another project… but which one?" she murmured to herself. Eyes snapping back into focus, she appeared much more alert to my every move. "You shouldn't be here."

"Why?" I asked flatly, intrigued at her sudden change in attitude. Now she was the one intent on helping. The logical part of my mind began debating whether or not it was wise to listen to her. The curious, human part told the logical side to shut up and pay attention.

"If you are what I think you are, and I'm rarely wrong in these matters," I snorted derisively. She ignored me. "Then the longer you stay here, the greater the possibility that you… might not like what Umbrella makes you into." I almost laughed.

"In case you haven't noticed, Umbrella has made me safer. Alright, the fact that they are the cause of this extremely shitty situation does make me cautious, but I've never had any of them confront me personally…" then I thought back to a very recent event, one that boiled my blood. "Except…" Alice motioned for me to continue. "My dog attacked a guy and he tried to kill her when I could have easily ordered her off, so I attacked him back. He looked more like he had proved something rather than like he had lost a fight… His name was Wesker-"

"What?" her tone was deadly. "You've had contact with Wesker." It was a statement. "This is going to go downhill scary fast." She looked at me, but I was merely confused beyond belief. The woman I had been convinced to hunt was sitting in my space and what was I doing? Oh yeah, listening to her. I'd upheld that patrol duty real well. "I need to get you out of here and soon."

"What for?" I exclaimed. "So you can dissect and study a new, fascinating toy? I've been trying to get you to trust me and now _you're_ the one_ I _have to trust? And for the record, how do you intend to get out anyway? You can barely stand for goodness sakes!"

"No," she said forcefully. "I need to get you out because you're… different. Like me." I snorted, close to hysterics.

"_Like you_? I'm nothing like you! I don't have my followers shoot innocent people!"

"Don't you though?" she said in dark seriousness. "What has Umbrella told you about us? That we're seeking to take down the "peace and safety" that is Paxsalus? That we only fight you to keep humanity from regaining strength?" I couldn't hold her gaze, as yes, that was exactly what Umbrella had convinced us to believe. "You all think that you're safe here, that this is a citadel to hold off the people from Arcadia. This is nothing more than a prison, built to keep the little lambs safe and sound before the slaughter," I stared at her, horrified. "You've only seen the surface of what Umbrella is capable of. You don't even understand _what_ Wesker is or the power he holds over all of you here." My brows furrowed.

I opened my mouth to ask her to explain when there was a quiet knock on the door. I opened it, unpleasantly surprised to find a gun held to my head.

"On your knees," a gruff voice ordered. I refused to bend to this stranger. I hadn't seen him in Pax before, but that was unsurprisingly given I didn't go among the civilians as often as others in different professions.

"Lay off, Alex," Alice ordered. "She's under my protection." Alex opened his mouth to protest, but thought better of it and shot me a nasty look before pushing his way inside, followed by several others. Alice's attention was on me.

"Make your choice, Alena," she said softly. "You can stay here and wait for Umbrella to take you down or you can fight with us, for us, to stop them." I looked in her eyes, finding no deceit. I bent and picked up my gun, hearing several click as the hostile soldiers moved to train on me. I holstered it with the other and strapped the harness on.

"I won't be controlled by anyone, not even you," I replied. "But considering my choices, I'll choose the lesser of the two evils and go with you. It's not like I've got anything keeping me here anyway," I slammed my last knife into the sheath and strapped it to my forearm, looking up at Alice. She looked slightly pleased with my decision. "Dogs allowed, yes?" I asked, glancing pointedly at a sullen Kira.

"Naturally," Alice replied. She turned to Alex. "Where's Chris and Claire?"

"With the others. They're waiting for our signal," he replied.

"Do you have a plan or are we just winging it?" I asked politely, intending to try and not piss off my superior like I did my first day in Paxsalus.

"A diversion," Alex said, now business-like with his new task. "The team and I will signal the others and start-"

"Disrupting the peace?" I said. "You'll have plenty of Umbrella guards to deal with if you go that route." Alex glared at me.

"That's the point," Alice explained. "We've been getting people from the Arcadia into Paxsalus by deleting their existing files with Umbrella. Those people have made a way in and out of this place. When signaled, they'll move to attack the Umbrella forces. With most of the attention on the disruption, a small group will be able to slip out unnoticed easily. The rest should have little trouble getting out as soon as we get the all clear as we have created a network of tunnels under Paxsalus. Only we know the open spots. Even Umbrella didn't hear us scratching at the walls." Although confused by this last remark, I remained calm, trying not to let my brain scream at me about my rash decisions.

"Right. I'll be with Alice-" Alex said.

"No," Alice interrupted. "I think we'll let our newest recruit take point." Several protests filled the air. "Can't be trusted" was prevalent among them.

"It makes sense if you consider it," I said, turning her decision over in my head. "I'm a patrol, so I won't be stopped on the streets. I have access to the side gates and am likely the only person here without a conspicuous way to kill." I pondered out loud, gripping my bow tightly. I looked around, checking the validity of my statement. I saw many knives and even more guns, but nothing quiet at long range. Alice nodded.

"And," she said over the grumbling of her fellow Arcadians, "This is the best time to discover in which place her loyalties lie. I'm perfectly capable of killing her should we have any problems." She said in a low tone. I held her gaze and inclined my head once.

"Fine," Alex spat discontentedly. "You know where to meet." He said to Alice, getting his small victory in denying me that bit if information. She nodded once, gripping the sides of the chair to lift herself up. I gave her my shoulder to lean on for, as was now evident, I wouldn't be able to back out of the pleasure of smuggling the most wanted woman in the world out of the most secure, Umbrella-run facility aboveground.

"Let's go then." Alice said, moving us forward. Kira joined me, leaning lightly on my legs. In my private thoughts, I sighed helplessly at having two injured fighters, both as stubborn as asses, to look out for.


	5. Rage is Red, Unoxidized Blood is Blue

**Disclaimer: I don't own Resident Evil… that should be obvious by now.**

**Advance Warning: Violence, some swearing**

**Author's Note: I really wish you readers would review this piece. If you have time to read what I barf up, I think you have time to write either 'It sucks' or something else along those lines.**

We hadn't even left the building before Alex had me pinned by my throat to the wall. I gasped in a breath, trying to breathe past the crushing force. Kira snarled, but was unable to move in the crowded area. Alice, now lacking support, nearly toppled over, just barely managing to catch herself on the stair rail.

"What..." I choked out.

"Shut up," Alex snarled. "You lied to us!"

"What… what are…?" I tried to ask, clawing at his fingers as I tried to get relief from the slow suffocation.

"Look outside," he ordered, clearly talking to his men as he kept his eyes on my every move. Someone obeyed and drew back the edge of the shabby curtain hanging in front of the dirty window. A breath hissed in. "Umbrella," he said, answering the man before anything was said. "She must have contacted them. May I kill her now, Alice?"

"I didn't!" I protested managing to pry his fingers slightly looser. "I don't know how they found you, honestly. Do you really think I'd work for the people who forced me into this fucking dog-eat-dog world? I'd shoot them down if I had the chance, but they've given me a place to sleep, so I'm not about to bite the hand that feeds me. Neither would I give up the chance to get back at them. Your offer is that chance."

"Put her down Alex," Alice said calmly. With a look of pure loathing, he released me. I glared at him, massaging my throat sullenly. Kira rubbed against my legs like a cat, a low growl rumbling in her chest. "They've been watching her for a while now." I jerked in surprise.

"What?" I said quietly, almost disbelievingly.

"If you are what I think you are," she explained, giving me a look that said nothing and everything. "Then Umbrella wouldn't want to lose its property. They've been keeping a close eye on you, Alena. Project. Property."

"Shut up." I said, closing my eyes as my eyebrows knitted together. It made so little sense to me, however much sense it made to Alice. I had to get their heads back to the task at hand. I was planning on having a _long_ talk with Alice as soon as possible. "Look, we need a distraction so we can get out. There's a back door…"

"Good," Alice interrupted. "Alex, fire a few rounds and get out. I'll go with Alena. Don't argue. None of you should even be here." Alice turned, studiously ignoring the flabbergasted Alex, who was trying to regain his composure. I pulled an arrow from my quiver and put it to the string of my bow, gesturing with my head the way to go. Alice, much improved since I had brought her back to my apartment, followed, leaving her men to wait around the door, guns drawn.

Silently, I slipped the door handle open, wincing as it creaked loudly. I popped my head out, hurriedly pulling back inside. I nodded to Alice, letting her know the way was clear. We slipped out, Kira fastidiously taking point. I switched my bow and arrow for gun, hoping the run down silencer would hold up if we entered combat. We stuck to the walls, keeping to the shadows to hide us. Alice was alert, holding the pistols her crew had given her. I had my eyes constantly roving, flicking back to areas to pick up careless movement. We met no opposition.

Sneaking through the alley way, we cautiously crept into the next street over, just as the first gun shots rang out. Lights flicked on in the buildings around us.

"Go." I hissed and we began a fast trot through the streets, angling away from increasingly loud disturbance.

"They'd better be all right," Alice muttered. "Or there'll be hell to pay."

"You said they shouldn't even be here," I said. "You don't want to be rescued?"

"I don't want people dying for me," she responded. "They shouldn't have come. I had a way out, but some of my friends think I can't handle my own problems."

"Chris and Claire?"

"Yes," she admitted. "And a girl named K-Mart. Well, Dahlia really, but she despises that name. She was with Claire and… others when I found them about a year and a half ago. But most of them are well, gone, and in this hellhole of a world, friends become your family and they're the only friends I have left."

"I get you," I said, tucking around a corner and pausing for breath while gathering my bearings. "It seems like everyone I get attached to… dies." I turned my head to look at Alice leaning on the wall beside me. Her gaze said that she pitied me.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" she murmured.

"Yeah. It does." I said, trying not to let my thoughts derail as we trotted down the street.

And you know who's responsible for each one, yes?"

"Yes."

Umbrella.

"But you've already got me convinced. Trying to make me hate them more is moot point." I said.

"Oh, but hate can fuel someone like few things can." She grinned.

"At times," I responded.

And at other times?"

"Fear. A cold lust for justice."

"So you never use the hot rush of hate to your own ends?" she asked politely.

"I use whatever I have to use to get the job done."

There was silence between us for a while before I piped up.

"How did Umbrella catch you?" I asked.

"A mistake."

"That's descriptive," I snorted, looking along the edge of the rooftops for snipers or hiders, pausing for a surveillance opportunity.

"Doesn't have to be." She retorted.

"Then answer me this," I said. "What did they want from you?" A pause of silence.

"Wesker needed my… DNA," she explained.

"Wait… Wesker, what?" I turned on my heel, confused.

"He's not- GET DOWN!" she cried, tackling me as bullets smashed through the concrete where my head was only a moment before. I rolled on impact, instincts kicking in as I brought my gun up and fired. Two men dropped.

"Alice!" I called as noise filled our area. I grabbed her arm as she fired. Whipping around, I found a barrel in my face before she quickly lowered it. "Run." I told her, tugging her urgently. We sprinted full out, firing shots when a target presented itself and weaving in and out of buildings. Kira, blood ringing her jaws, easily kept up with our speed.

"They knew we were coming," I said, furious at how close we'd gotten. We had seen the gates. They'd been waiting in ambush.

"Is it that obvious?" Alice snapped, rising into a run. I ignored her. "We go to the tunnels," she ordered. A back-up plan, good. "We'll have to back track. There's an entrance on the side of town from your place. It was too close to Umbrella territory for my liking, but the others should have gotten out by now." A sudden boom had up stuttering to a halt. A small mushroom cloud blossomed to our right. "Claire must be pissed." Alice murmured. I looked at her, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

We sprinted around the corner to my street, hoping to find it cleared, or at least a little less populated than before.

How wrong my hopes were.

The street that had been filled with Alice's crew and Umbrella agents was now packed with brawling Umbrella agents, Arcadians, and the population of Paxsalus. My neighbors were fighting both against Umbrella and Arcadians, although the Umbrella agents were shooting to kill, careless of alliance. The Arcadians were at least letting the Pax civilians live, usually knocking them unconscious.

"Alice! No!" I shouted as she sprinted into the fray, heedless of danger. I shot forward, hoping to find her in the mess. A yelp and shout behind me made me turn. Kira had leapt on an Umbrella agent creeping up behind me, clawing at him in a blood driven frenzy. I shot him in the heart, pulling her off the dead soldier.

A blow from behind caused me to fall.

Eyes flecked with black spots, I staggered up, the ancient feel of fear and instinct coursing through me. I turned, pulling my knife and stabbing the man repeatedly in the heart, hearing his gurgling scream with satisfaction.

"Well, now. That's quite brutal Miss Davis," I voice chuckled from behind me. I spun, hunched over and crouched, ready to leap at the slightest provocation. A new feeling ran through my blood. Hate.

Not eight meters away stood Albert Wesker, drawing a needle from my now twitching dog. I snarled.

"This will be quite interesting," he murmured, drawing back slightly as Kira staggered to her feet. "Get her." He ordered. Kira turned, growling and foaming at the mouth, eyes once brown and sweet now red and hungry.

"No…" I whispered as she lunged mindlessly. However much I wished to stop myself, the self-preservation so ingrained in my being took over, forcing me to raise my arms.

With regret and tears, I watched as my dog skidded to a halt in front of me, stone dead with two bullets into her head. Trembling, I laid my hand on her head, stroking the matted, blood soaked fur as tears coursed down my gore spattered cheeks. My family, all of it now, gone. I had personally killed the last living being I loved. However much I tried to convince myself that it wasn't my fault, I couldn't. It was my fault. It was always_ my_ fault. But no one else was going to die by my hand except one.

Shaking with rage, I stood, dropping my empty gun and clutching the knife with white knuckled fingers. With my head lowered to protect my neck, I stalked towards Wesker, my intent clear in my frame.

"You're willing to die for dear doggy?" he asked, mouth quirked to the side as if amused. I lunged, screaming my fury. He dodged with inhuman speed. I landed on all fours, rolling and coming to my feet, surprised but no less eager to kill him. "How touching."

He shrugged out of his coat, throwing aside the expensive leather as if it was worthless. Cracking his neck to one side, he stepped towards me, moving faster than my eye could follow. I lashed out, aiming high for his face.

"I told you I would kill you if you touched her," I hissed, watching as the blade neared his pretty face, tightening my wrist for the impact… which never came.

He was suddenly behind me, an arm across my chest and arms, holding me to him as if I wasn't struggling at all. His free arm traced a line up my arm. The hard plane of his stomach vibrated as he spoke softly in my ear.

"I don't think you'll find that to be as easy as you hoped," he said in a deep timbre, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. I shivered. I lashed backward, feeling skin open as I hit something soft. The hiss of a sharp intake of breath. I surged forward, hoping he was distracted enough to lessen his grip. No such luck. He pulled me back almost immediately, the breath whooshing out of me in a rush as the sudden impact winded me. I coughed once.

"Mmmm, not quite good enough, Alena. You'll have to do better than that. Perhaps a little encouragement," he sneered softly into my ear. "Did you love them?" I froze, the battle rampaging around us failing to touch any of my senses.

"Your bright, new family? Your half-par friends?" My breath hissed in and out between my teeth, my pulse jumping at an erratic rate. "Let me tell you a little secret. I killed them. All of them. I let them see me just before I ripped out their throats. Mr. Anderson actually tried to beg for his life," A lie. I had heard his last moments before…

"NO!" I screamed, half snarling. The familiar red haze burst into my vision and I heaved forward, flipping Wesker over my back. He landed up both feet, smirking at my pitiful attempt to disarm him. I was breathing heavily, pulse pounding in my ears. Every instinct from the days of the animal-man surged through me. Sound became sharp, easy to pinpoint. Colors were more vivid, sharper, and brighter. I could smell the blood and sweat and tears that coated my street. I cocked my head, looking at Wesker from beneath my eyebrows, shoulders heaving in anger.

"Very good," he said, sarcastically clapping. "That's what I wanted to see. Now let's find out how well your rage fares against me." He pulled off his sunglasses, exposing glowing, blood red eyes, pupils slit like a cat's. I hissed, lost in my blood-rage.

I leapt at him, dropping my knife and extending my bare hands. I was beyond thinking now. He caught me with a fist to my sternum. Gasping, I curled into a ball on the ground.

"Those eyes of yours are really quite interesting," he said almost conversationally. "The black is very intimidating, I assure you." I surged up, fist connecting with his jaw. Head snapping back, he took one step back before facing me, still smirking. I kicked at his head, suddenly off balance as he caught my foot. He twisted, flipping me onto my stomach, face down in the dirt.

"It would seem that you aren't prepared quite yet. Rage can only take you so far, I'm afraid." He was right and I knew it. But, lying in the dirt, I felt the blood rage recede, turning into something cold, primal. Standing, I looked at him, slightly annoyed as he smiled wider.

"Much better, Alena. Let's try again shall we?" My rage was gone, replaced by bitter calculation. The world around me slowed as he lashed out his hand. He was moving at a pace I could follow, a pace that would be considered normal in any other fight. Everyone around us was moving through honey, slow and pathetically vulnerable.

I countered, blocking his hand and throwing my own punch. We were evenly matched for some time, blocking and punching equally quickly. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed several Umbrella soldiers stop, watching our brawl with open-jawed awe. One slowly raised his gun, firing a shot at me. I watched it come, dodging under Wesker's upper kick and the bullet at the same time.

"No," he snarled at the man. "She's mine." In slow motion, the man paused, nodded, and ran off, slowly signaling his comrades keep watch on us. It wasn't until I got distracted by something important that I began to lose the fight.

A sharp squeal of pain, high, childish, and definitely female, made my head turn. Cowering on the doorstep was Kim, blood running from a cut on her forehead. An Umbrella soldier had Mindy by the throat, a gun to her gut. My heart clenched in fear for her and I felt a surge of new energy run through my muscles. I kicked upwards suddenly, catching Wesker by surprise as I hit him in the chest, throwing him backwards onto the ground.

Racing to Mindy, I threw my shoulder into the tackle and slammed into the man at a speed not capable for normal humans. He dropped Mindy, who lay where she fell. The man staggered to his feet, pointing a gun at me and firing several shots. I swerved to the side as I ran at him, feeling the bullets whizz by harmlessly. Knocking the gun from his hands, I flipped him, grabbing his head and slinging an arm across his shoulders. Despite his struggling and strength, I snapped his neck, throwing him aside like a rag doll.

I turned to Mindy and Kim, who was trying to drag her sister away from me. With a start, I realized how I must appear to them, a maniac covered in blood and dirt, clothes torn and ratty, eyes black as the darkest night. I crouched in front of them as Kim desperately tried to pull her little sister away from me.

"It's all right," I said, picking up Mindy and carrying her just inside the doorstop. "Kim, both of you need to stay inside. Get upstairs now, before they come back." Kim nodded eagerly, pulling at her sister with renewed energy. I shut the door, bending the metal handle and the door frame to ensure no one would be able to get in easily.

I turned, hoping Wesker was unconscious. I had to find Alice and get out of here before things got worse. Things got horribly worse as soon as I turned around.

A hand closed around my throat, picking me up with ease.

"How sweet," Wesker mused. "But you should know that it's rude to leave someone waiting for you." He swung me around, slamming me into the hard concrete wall of my apartment complex. I cried out, vision sputtering with black as I fought the blackout I knew was inevitable. I had gotten distracted, all my rage or calculation from the fight fading in those brief moments. His hand squeezed tighter as I struggled.

"Umbrella is reclaiming some valuable property," he said. _Alice was right_, I thought. "Your demonstration was very informative." _Shit_. He studied me up and down. I could almost feel his bloody eyes moving up and down my body. A loud rumbling made me stop struggling.

Grumbling down the street was a parade of Umbrella reinforcements and military vehicles. The remaining civilians and Arcadians scattered, fleeing thorough alleyways and buildings. Those that remained were mowed down with machine guns and police batons. A nervous looking soldier, confusion and anxiety plaster all over his sweaty face, approached Wesker, looking quickly at me, as I was still futilely struggling against Wesker's grip, trying to summon the rage and fury I had used before.

"Sir," he said smartly, saluting. Wesker just looked at him flatly. The man could not meet his fierce gaze staring at his shoulder instead of his face. "The Arcadians are in retreat. Do we pursue?" Wesker was silent for a moment.

"No," he said confidently. "Let them go," he did not explain his decision.

"What do we do with the survivors?" the man asked cautiously. Wesker had an almost immediate answer.

"Keep them for testing," he said. "We've got what we came for." He looked at me. I tried to return his gaze with a look full of pure loathing. He smiled slightly, choking me until the world faded to black.


	6. The Mind is a Temple

**Disclaimer: I do not own RE, blahblahblah**

**Advance Warning: Potty mouth, good,-old-fashioned fist fight**

*RE*RE*

When I awoke, I began to sense everything quickly, suddenly, and very clearly.

Chains. Clinking together and tight around _my_ wrists and _my_ ankles.

We were moving, bumpy and jolting, but moving. The rumble of an internal combustion engine. A truck, perhaps?

I was covered in blood, my own? My hair had fallen in front of my eyes, but I could smell people in the confines of the car. Definitely men, by the smell.

And another. Musk and… musk and leather. Wesker.

At that, my rage returned, the haze returned and I surged forward, jerked back by the chains attaching me to the wall of the van. I came nose to nose with the infuriating smirk of Albert Wesker, who was sitting on a bench across from me, calm and relaxed, leaning forward with his chin on his interlaced fingers. I was seething, breath hissing in and out in painful gusts. Several of the soldiers had their guns trained on me. I could feel their red laser dots flicking over my face and torso. I didn't care. I wanted to kill the man in front of me, for I was long lost in the rage of a beast. The chains imbedded in the wall groaned as I put my weight on them and pulled.

No good. They wouldn't break, not even if I used every ounce of my strength. I leaned against them, using them to keep me leaning forward, upright. I flicked my head, studying all of the men with furious black eyes, cocking my head and inhaling sharply to get their scents. They shuffled, uncertain and spooked. Good, that was what I wanted.

"My God," I heard as a man muttered to his companion. I whipped my head around to study him with my animalistic gaze. Fear rolled off him in waves and I laughed inwardly, reveling in my power over these fools. "She's not human is she?" I grinned ferociously, trying to spook him into doing something foolish that would allow me to get out of this cramped space.

"It's a fear tactic," Wesker said, sounding almost bored. I whipped my head around, cocking my head, our noses separated by barely an inch of air.

"This one's smart," I said, my voice deeper, more sensual, primal and perfect. I was the ultimate killing machine right now. And I had a target. Wesker. "Did you tell them that I could kill them without even trying?" They shuffled nervously in their seats as the vehicle slowed. Wesker leaned farther forward, capturing my gaze even through his sunglasses. A red glint sparked behind them.

"Oh, but can you?" he murmured. He reached up, placing something on the exposed skin in my chest. A hot, electrical rush, painful and unbearably hot, flowed through me as soon as the thing latched onto my skin. I fell back against the wall, twitching painfully, my back arching as I screamed without sound. "Stop." Wesker ordered and the pain stopped, only to be replaced by a warm rush. Fear swept through me as I felt my muscles lock and force me into a sitting position. Wesker smiled coolly.

"Who controls you?" he asked arrogantly. I opened my mouth to retort.

"Umbrella," I said, snapping my mouth shut in surprise. I looked up at him, realization creeping under my skin. "No…" I whispered.

"Oh yes," he laughed. "I told you once that we'd see about your certainty that you had no masters. Umbrella is repossessing its property. You." I felt tears fleck my eyes. Furiously, I bit my tongue to drive them back. I would not appear weak. There had to be a way to fight this. The door slammed open.

"Sir, Project Alice is in custody," Jill Valentine said coldly, her eyes flicking up to me. With her purple jumpsuit on, I saw a red, spidery device glowing at her chest, the same as mine. I looked up into her eyes, surprised and scared. Looking back at me, she silently communicated her pity, her eyes conveying the pain and the regret she could not voice out loud. We were sisters in slavery. Her attention snapped back to Wesker. "What do wish for us to do?"

"Take Miss Davis to her room and instruct her on protocol. I have business to attend to." Wesker said, authority ringing in every syllable. Jill nodded and unlocked the chains around my ankles, collecting the chains around my wrists in her hands and jerking me out of the van, her gaze trying to apologize for what she couldn't control. Like me, she was aware of her situation. And like me, she couldn't change it. I stumbled in behind her, feeling a warm rush originating from my chest as I fought the order. The spiderlike device was injecting me with some sort of mind control serum. I rushed to obey at the warm feeling, regardless of what I wanted to do.

Jill led me into a stainless, steel shod hall, tugging on the chains every time I fought to disobey. I fought the order at every step, trying to get accustomed to the drug that was coursing through my system. I hoped that if I learned to become immune through overuse, I could escape from the pull. As we proceeded through the halls, drawing stares from the Umbrella employees, I began to recognize the drug's influence form my own thoughts. Warmth. A dog-like urge to please. A sickly-sweet rush and the press of cruel seduction. I could fight it, I knew it. But it would take time. Time I didn't have.

Lost in my own thoughts of escape and revenge now that I knew I had the intelligence to fight the urge to obey, I was surprised when I rammed into Jill's back. She shot me a glare that made me freeze. Until I could throw off the effects of the drug completely, she was the boss. The door slid open when she keyed the code into the pad that replaced the handle. 11-01-20-10. She made me repeat it back to her before pointing me inside. I obeyed like the ever pleasing pet I had become.

I stopped inside, without orders to do anything else. Jill stalked inside, throwing me a glance of pity as she went to the closet. It was a bare room. Bed with a small nightstand. Desk with a chair. Closet set into the wall. The carpet was a dull gray. It reminded me a lot of my room in Pax.

Jill turned and shoved a mass of fabric into my hands, setting a pair of tall black boots down nearby.

"Change." She ordered, crossing her arms. I looked at her, standing still. A warm rush and I paused, letting it get to an unbearable heat before obeying. She obviously wasn't going to leave me alone to switch clothes. I turned my back to her, hoping she wouldn't be perverted enough to watch. I slipped out of my old clothing, throwing it aside. Ripped and filthy, they were useless to me now. I picked up the new clothes, snorting derisively when I held it up.

Made of a thicker, spandex like material, the uniform was black and blue. A black spike of a harder material, flexible but more like armor, peaked at my elbows, trailing up and getting wider until it covered my shoulders, coming down in a V at my neck. From there, it spread down, getting thinner just under my breasts and spreading out again to hug the top of my hips and curving around to cover by bottom and some of my lower back. It covered the entire thigh and most of my knee caps. A thinner, royal blue fabric covered everything else.

Before I could put it on, Jill shoved me from behind into an open air shower. White tiles on the floor were the only thing to define the area. I gasped as she turned a handle and icy cold water poured down.

"Clean up." She ordered. This time I rushed to obey. The water, however frigid, was the first chance I'd gotten in days to clean myself up. I scrubbed vigorously at my skin and hair with my nails, internally rejoicing as the grime and gore of days past came off. When I was sufficiently clean, Jill turned off the water, throwing me a towel. I dried and took the uniform she had pulled away from the stream of water.

I pulled it on, zipping up and turning around to face Jill Valentine. To my relief, my suit, similar to hers, was much more modest. Unlike Jill's, which had a zipper only half-way up her chest, exposing her chest and the control device, mine zipped up to the half-way point of my neck. The device on my chest was hidden, as it was thinner than hers and the suit allowed for greater coverage. She handed me the boots and I pulled them on, zipping them up on the sides. I couldn't help but grudgingly admire the supple, rich quality of the leather. I hadn't owned anything so useful, yet nice, for years.

She handed me two stiff arm guards. I looked at her questioningly, but she deigned not to respond. I slipped them on, tightening them to my preference. She handed me two blades, hilt first, and I gratefully slipped them into the sheaths. I had felt naked not being armed in enemy territory. She did not return my guns, nor did she return my bow. Still, I felt better for having _something_ with which I could defend myself if I was forced into that kind of situation.

"Turn." She said curtly. I turned slowly, not knowing what she intended to do behind my back. I felt a gentle pressure on my head before it moved down, tugging slightly in my hair. I started mentally. Jill Valentine, my boss and my theoretical enemy, was brushing my hair. I used the opportunity to ask her a question.

"Where's Alice?" I asked.

"We have her in custody. No questions." She said before the device forced her response in another direction. Her tone said that she would love to answer any questions I had, but her orders forced her to do otherwise. I paused, considering my options. If Alice was here, I had to find her. She wasn't safe with Umbrella, as I'd figured out quite quickly.

"You weren't always Umbrella, were you?" I asked, already guessing her response.

"Incorrect. No questions." Correct, she meant.

I left her to finish brushing my hair. It was strange, her taking care of something I could do by myself. She wasn't ripping through, trying to get it done. The strokes were gentle, careful. My curls had always been hard to untangle, but she managed to do it easily. Gathering my hair up, she braided it quickly, tying it off and stepping away hurriedly, as if embarrassed. I put my fingers to my damp braid, knowing the red undertones would be showing through the dark brown in the bright fluorescent light. She ordered me to follow her, her movements business like and sharp as she marched out the door, hips swinging unconsciously. She knew she was gorgeous.

I followed her down the halls, drawing up to her side when she ordered.

"You are Umbrella now. Any ties to civilian life should be forgotten. You are not to disobey superiors. You are not to question commands. If you disobey, your device dose will be increased in both power and pain," _Fuck me, _I thought. I would have to become a Jill Valentine, the emotionless drone of Umbrella made humanity. If I learned to ignore the dose, I could break the control. If I blatantly disobeyed, it would become harder to break free. This was going to be tricky. If I wanted to find Alice and get out, I'd have to become one of them. "You will be tested and trained before you are released from the compound. Starting now, you are in training." She whipped around, swinging her boot up towards my head. Surprised, I dove to the side, feeling her foot clip my shoulder. I whirled, fists up, on my toes, only to find her relaxed, hands behind her back.

"That was a test. You did not pass. If I hit you, that is a failure. Failure will not be tolerated. I would train you to fix it. Unfortunately for you, I am not your principal trainer." She stopped at a door in the wall, entering a pass code before admitting me inside.

At first, I was startled. We were standing in a field, the tall, light green grass waving in a gentle breeze. The sky was cloudless, allowing the warm rays of the sun to shine down. It was perfect. I reached down to brush my fingertips across the tops of the blades of grass.

"Interesting," a voice said behind me. "Not at all what I would have expected from you." I turned, already knowing what I'd find. Standing just in front of Jill was Wesker, looking as smug as usual. This time he was wearing a fabric t-shirt and pants, lacking his usual attire of leather. Only the dark sunglasses remained. To be honest, he looked extremely attractive, the clothing hugging his muscled frame in all the right places. I nearly asked what he meant before remembering that, as I was under Umbrella's control, I wasn't allowed to ask questions. I swallowed my query and stood like Jill, straight backed with hands clasped behind my back.

"This room locks into your mind, changing the environment to the user's preference. When you walked in, it registered your mental haven, ergo," he waved his hand at our surroundings. "I would have thought it to be a beach, or perhaps the mountains. That's what the room becomes for most people."

I couldn't help what happened next. If this was my haven, neither of them should be in it. I focused the eye of my mind on a different setting. The meadow blurred, the colors running together. All of a sudden, a different place came into existence. We suddenly stood in a lava field, gray rocks and volcanoes all around. I had meant to place a lava plume under Wesker, but he merely laughed as the lava swerved and ran around him.

"It looks like our pet has some spunk left after all. The room can't kill," he said smugly. The field blurred again and we were suddenly standing on a dirt arena surrounded by a high metal fence. "However, my mind overrides yours. Welcome to the first day of training." I mentally flinched. If Jill wasn't training me to be a slavering, obedient pet for Umbrella to use, then that meant… oh, shit. I wasn't looking forward to facing Wesker again. There were several large bruises blossoming across my body already from yesterday. Having him "train" me was practically a death sentence. I couldn't fight him unless I was… cold. I didn't even know how to bring the raging stage on without an incentive yet.

"You are my… trainer."I stated, trying not phrase it as a question. _More like master. Will you force me to sit and roll over? _I thought bitterly.

"I wouldn't want you hurting Agent Valentine on accident. Besides, we have more in common." He said.

"We have nothing in common, you murdering bastard!" I snarled, momentarily forgetting my situation. I snapped my mouth shut, praying I wasn't about to get shot by either Wesker or his mind-controlled mistress. Jill stiffened and took a half-step forward. Wesker raised a hand and she halted immediately.

"Rage. Good, we're progressing. Leave us," he ordered to Jill. She nodded once and threw me an indecipherable look before walking out. Wesker began walking slowly around me, studying me openly. I stood stock still, fearing retribution if I moved. "I don't have to teach you to obey, our invention takes care of that, but teaching you proper manners seems to be a priority," I breathed in and out regularly, trying to steady my heartbeat. "For now, I must be content with teaching you to access the part of you that puts us on equal footing. Here, there aren't any distractions," Actually, I could think of several, namely, getting out of this hellhole, hopefully with Alice in tow. "We start now." With that, he rushed me, moving faster than I could see.

I tried to follow him, merely getting a blow to the gut as I spun to where I thought he was. I swung at his face, only to step forward, off balance, at the lack of a target. He kicked out at my leg and I fell, the muscle turned to jelly, biting the dust, feeling both angry and shameful. It was like he wasn't even trying.

"Not good enough Alena," Wesker scolded arrogantly as I got up. I looked down, judging the distance between us. I tried for the element of surprise, failing miserably as I feinted and whirled, ready to punch, only to run directly into his chest. He tripped me up and slammed me into the ground. I gasped for air like a fish as he crouched over me. "You should know by now that _that's_ not the way to go about it. Rage won't help you here. You need the power, the pure clarity the T-virus can give you. You have to _want_ it, not just need it." I hissed in a breath and waited until my vision was clear before getting up. We stood still, silent, looking at each other. He motioned with his hand for me to go ahead.

Scowling, I closed my eyes. Feeling extremely foolish, I concentrated, trying to find "myself" in my mind. I pictured three people. The one in the middle was me, plain and simple. Normal. A fighter, but not a courageous person, even at the best of times. Someone who was somewhat of a coward, refusing to face reality.

The one to the left I immediately labeled as my Id. It was me still, but hunched and snarling, the eyes a flat, unintelligent black. An animal, concerned only with the kill. I shuddered inwardly, despising this beast.

The one to the right I labeled as my Superego. I was almost glowing. Perfect. Startlingly strong, both physically and mentally. I could be whatever I wanted with this person. I could be free… Remembering Wesker's advice, I told myself that I craved this with all my being. I felt something surge through me, something strong. Excited, I opened my eyes… only to feel no different. I wasn't cold. I wasn't in the calculating mind of the perfect being. I saw Wesker and felt hate, fear, vengeance, and something I couldn't identify. He smiled.

"Good." He said softly.

Then he attacked.

I opened my mouth to tell him that I wasn't ready, I couldn't do it, but he wasn't gone from my vision, faster than I could track. I saw him come forward, bringing his arm up. I countered instinctively. He smiled at my look of utter confusion. That confusion was soon pushed aside, replaced by the urgent need to defend myself. The need to survive.

I punched. He blocked. I kicked, he swept my leg aside. He swung an uppercut and I dodged with ease. It was like a dance, neither of us leading, neither of us following. Neither of us tired and neither of us gave any quarter. I don't know how long we fought; it could have been minutes or hours. At last, I found his weakness, just as he found mine.

I tackled him around the middle, the area he protected the least. He swung a leg out as he fell, tripping me face first. My triumphant laugh was cut short as I fell. The fall felt slow, like both of us were falling through honey. Idly, I wondered if I could catch myself. This mental distraction slowed the coursing of the T-virus in my body, turning me back into the human I readily preferred. The world sped up and my arms flailed in panic. I landed hard, the breath whooshing out in a gust. My head snapped forward, putting me in a painful daze. I laid my head down, closing my eyes against the fuzzy spinning of my mind.

Once I got my sight under control, I opened my eyes, feeling my body rise up and down steadily. I was lying on top of Wesker, my head on his chest, gently rising and falling with his breathing. Heat rushed to my face and I scrambled sideways, refusing to look at him. _It never happened. It was an accident. I was confused and unaware of where I was, _I told myself futilely. I stood up, assuming the obedient position that Jill used, staring at the walls of the room as they blurred and became a circular, white domed arena.

"Come here again tomorrow." Wesker ordered, leaving the room quickly. I stood there for a moment, trying to catch my breath. I waited until my cheeks had faded from bright red to the typical light tan before leaving.

Finding the loophole in Wesker's orders, I wandered the halls, letting my mind wander as well. No one stopped me, nor did anyone question me. It seemed that Umbrella was confident in their technology. I was fighting, fighting so hard. I hoped that my… difference from the others would allow me to break through the bonds the device had me under. However, until I found Alice, I had to act like them, talk like them, get them to trust me. When I had accomplished that, getting Alice, and myself for that matter, out would be slightly harder than impossible.

I walked for a while, reveling in the limited freedom. I knew that soon, inevitable and undeniable, I would be forced to go against my morals. My hands were already bloodied with the deaths of the Arcadians. I rubbed my forehead. I had _seen_ the Arcadians kill Pax patrol members. I had _seen_ Umbrella agents kill Pax civilians. Who was right and who was wrong? I was under the control of Umbrella, quite against my will, which made me certain I knew who was good and who was evil. But I had had that same certainty not long ago. I had believed Umbrella's assurances of the crimes committed by the Arcadians. I had watched bodies being carried in, victims of Alice and her order. Now I was certain that Umbrella was to blame. I sighed in exasperation. Life had been so much easier when I was by myself. And yet, I hadn't been alone. Kira… Did I really know whose fault it was she was dead? Wesker had turned her into one of the undead, but I had physically murdered her. It wasn't her fault, of that I was certain. She could not control the urges the T-virus forced her to placate.

But that raised another dilemma. Why could I control the T-virus? When had I been administered any dose? Never could I remember being forced into an injection of the plague. I had only been able to use it since the mass outbreak, and even then only sparingly. I couldn't command it, but it couldn't control me as it did the infected. It felt like an existence that was harmonious, and yet I knew that it was not. It used my rage and I used its coldness, calling upon it when I needed to become a merciless killer.

And Alice. What was her place in this bizarre world? She had said that we were alike, but I wondered how so. Was she infected without dominance, as I was? Was she a cold killer or a raging beast? The infuriating blank area of knowledge fueled my desire to find her to greater heights.

The sudden dimming of the hall lights broke my reverie. I turned, looking up at the lights curiously. I glanced at a glowing panel near a doorway, surprised to see the glowing analog numbers **2300 hours** gleaming back at me.

It was time for workers to retire. Such a simple, common task felt strange in this place so full of shadows and creatures that went bump in the night. I retraced my steps, stopping just outside my door to enter the key code. The sound of footsteps drew my attention away from the pad and down the hall. Stopped at the intersection of hallways was Wesker.

I met his shaded gaze, the memories of my first obedience class rushing back. He took off his sunglasses, capturing my eyes with his own bright red ones. In the dimmed light, they seemed to glow with a peculiar feral light. A blush creeping up my cheeks, I hit the enter button and fled into the relative privacy of my own room.

*RE*RE*

**I'm **_**very **_**disappointed in y'all. Only one review? Perhaps I should channel my inner Wesker and deny you the next chapter until I get up to ten reviews…**

**Good evil plan. I'll stick to it. And just to make you more likely to review, I'm posting the first chapter of a new story.**

**How many of you like Oded Fehr?**


	7. The Monster's Little Lamb

**I do not own "The Chase" by Randy Ramage. Great poem though.**

*RE*RE*

Albert Wesker was avoiding me.

This was made painfully clear quite quickly.

*RE*RE*

I hadn't even been at the complex full month and I was already being made into an integral part of the system. I was an asset, a tool ready for their use. I was a pet, a slavering dog made perfectly obedient by the drug coursing through my blood. My first attempt at dislodging the spiderlike device on my chest was rewarded by a second degree burn on my palm. Luckily, the full body suit that I had quickly discovered to be a "slave" uniform covered the burn; I felt the pain for several days, even under the thick fabric. I took that as a warning not to touch the infernal device.

That didn't prevent me from trying to outsmart the drug itself at every opportunity I got. I don't know how long I lay awake every night, imagining a mental Jill Valentine snapping an order in my face.

She had the eyes of someone who had long given up. I could see the blank shift as her eyes roved, making my heart twist as I realized that she was letting the drug well and truly become part of her. She had long ago let go of any shred of hope of being rescued. It was likely that her friends on the outside either thought her dead or lost. I had wondered at first whether or not she had fought like I was now doing. Upon seeing her mentally and emotionally slack expression, I found it hard to believe. However, some little spark in flat plane of her eyes made me reconsider. If only I could reconnect with her lost soul. If only I could make her remember the taste of freedom, the joy of complete control.

As I lay in my bed, I felt the twinge of sadness return as I dwelt upon my own lost freedom. I was like the bird in the zoo, wings clipped, singing of freedom while watching the free bird soar high above in the sapphire sky.

I seemed to take well to self-pity, a loathsome quality, given my current situation. It was painfully difficult to overpower the drug and my nightly attempts often ended in writhing agony and complete failure. Very seldom did I manage to conquer the sickeningly seductive liquid as it worked through me. Now was one of those common, painful moments.

Sweat beaded on my brow as the pain rose to a crescendo. If my voice would work, I would have been screaming at a frequency high enough to break glass. As it was, my back was arched in almost a perfect half circle, my spine forced upwards with the force of the pain. I rolled out of the bed, my mind burning with the agony. Crawling to the shower square, I stripped quickly before turning on the frigid water and curling up under the healing spray.

_Help me…_ my head shot up, eyes roving the room, seeking the culprit in the shadowy corners. It sounded like a man, weak, pitiable, and struggling against the confines of the mind.

"Uh-hello?" I said, feeling foolish.

_Help...please... I-I… I need help. _The voice said, inciting a twinge of pity in my heart. It sounded so hurt, so ensnared. Umbrella was the culprit. Anger rose to replace the pity. If Umbrella was keeping someone locked away, it was my duty to help.

"Where are you?" I whispered into the room. "Tell me and I'll come find you. I'll get you out, I promise." _Thank you_… the voice murmured. It felt like the person was standing right beside me, speaking directly into my ear. I got up, throwing on a loose, white v-neck and black yoga pants, a work-out outfit, given to me to use in my "free-time". A sham, to say the least. I left my feet bare, my soaking wet hair hanging around my face in slowly curling ringlets that extended to my elbows.

There was a sudden tug in my gut, a feeling of urgency and need. I walked towards my door, sliding it open silently before slipping out into the pitch black hallway. I was jerked left, my feet moving before the rest of my body. Had I considered my movements instead of the instinctual urge to find… whoever was in my head, I might have blushed at how marionette-like my body must seem. I could feel the tug pulling me down different hallways, never back tracking and never giving me a chance to pause. Truly, I did want to help this person, but this was ridiculous! I was acting like the bloodhound Umbrella expected me to be, with no control over my own movements. I suppose I could have stopped myself, but the voice kept murmuring pleas for help and whispers of seductive promises to help free me. How could I possibly have resisted?

Wherever I was being taken, it was in the middle of the research wing. Pebbled glass obstructed my view, but the irresistible force led me down a set of stairs I wouldn't have noticed had I been walking here by myself. I stumbled hurriedly onwards, clutching at the railing when the force let me go and I toppled forwards at the sudden release. I had to jump the last ten steps without planning. I stumbled forward a few steps, arms wind milling for balance. Unfortunately, the unyielding steel door in front of me refused to catch me without repercussion.

I slammed into the door face first, groaning as I felt a bruise develop along my left jaw line and ribcage. _Yes. Come to me, Child of Life._ The voice purred, stronger now. I pressed my hand against the door, following the instructions whispered hastily into my mind. I felt for a crack along the side of the doorway, pounding my fist on it once to pop open a key pad hidden in the wall. A code entered my mind and I punched in the alphanumerical code without hesitation, knowing my time was limited. I would be found soon if I didn't hurry. The door hissed open reluctantly, allowing me into a room so stark white, my eyes burned momentarily.

I stepped inside, tucking my damp hair behind my ear as I looked around. Quickly now, I went forward, peering into the glass door at the end of the hall. Machines buzzed and blinked in the rooms to both sides of the straight corridor. At the end of the hallway, I could see a glass door, pebbled for privacy. A large dark shape was visible behind the blurry glass. It shifted slightly. I rushed forward, sliding the glass door open without hesitation.

It wasn't quite what I expected. A large man stood there, slumped forward as much as the large steel shackles around his wrists, ankles, and waist would allow. Long, chestnut hair fell in front of his face, his broad, muscled shoulders hunched in obvious pain and fatigue.

"Help… me…" he whispered. I lurched forward, snarling at the cruelty of Umbrella. I ran my hands over the shackles on his wrists, looking for a seam, a keyhole, a code pad, anything. I growled in the back of my throat, scrabbling at the metal with my fingers, frustrated.

"How do I get these off?" I asked in exasperation. His head bobbed up incrementally, indicating a panel on the wall.

"Code…" he murmured. The code went through my head in a blur, a string of numbers and meaningless words. I tapped the code in, turning around as a click and hiss broke the tense silence. The man fell forward as the clasps released, his wrists and bare ankles red and raw from the manacles. I shot forward, crumpling slightly under his much heavier weight. I grunted and lifted him to his feet, slinging his arm around my shoulder.

"Come on, we gotta get out before someone notices," I huffed out, trying to take a step forward. He mumbled something, his arm tightened around my shoulder, effectively holding me in place. "What?" I grunted, confused.

"I said, you're even more weak and pathetic than the normal woman," he said in a clear voice, higher pitched than one would have expected from someone of his stature. Before I could even comprehend this sudden change, he stood straight up, towering over me and flung me backwards, one thick arm pinning me to the cold wall. I hissed out a breath as the wind was knocked out of me. "Honestly, all I had to do was whimper and plead a bit and you were ready to risk your life for me. Good God, how thick and emotional are women these days?"

I strained against his arm, huffing out as he picked me up slightly and slammed me once more into the wall, stunning me. How could I be so stupid? I closed my eyes, searching through my mental capacities for the same power I felt when Wesker made me angry enough to kill puppies. To my surprise, I couldn't find it. Scared and shell-shocked as I was, I couldn't find it. No… NO! I felt his body lean against my own, using the weight difference to keep me still.

And then he kissed me.

His lips were warm and soft against mine, moving like he wanted to eat me, like he was the predator and I was the prey. I froze. My heart sped up. What was happening? Here I was, captured by… someone... and he was _kissing_ me? He growled softly at my lack of response, biting my lower lip. I squeaked, opening my eyes as he pulled back.

Glowing green orbs stared down into my own dark brown. With irises the color of radioactive acid and no pupils, his furious look was enough to freeze me in my place. "Naughty, naughty, little girl," he hissed. His other hand came up to grope my breast. He squeezed hard and I whimpered at the sharp pain. I squirmed under his fierce ministrations, trying desperately to escape. "Now, that wouldn't be wise. You're giving me… ideas." He murmured into my ear, biting down with a pinch on the lobe. His hips rubbed against my lower stomach, establishing exactly what his "ideas" were. I froze again.

"No… God, no. Please…" I whispered. He was a monster in human skin.

"There's no God here. Just the Big Bad Wolf and the Little Lost Lamb," he growled, kissing me again. _The hell?_ I thought.

"How are you?... What are you?..." I stammered, trying to stall for time as my brain scrambled for an idea. Inexplicably, I couldn't access my new powers, nor could I scream for help. It was the middle of the night in the most deserted area of the compound. He chuckled darkly under his breath.

"I'm like you. I'm… new in an old world," he explained slyly. "But, unlike you, my powers are easy for me control. And unlike you, I can't be "fixed" by Umbrella," he spat out the word. "You see, for the select few, the T-Virus acts as an enhancer to their DNA, making changes on the genetic level that allow inherent abilities to become God-like abilities. You are weak and emotional, and therefore Umbrella takes advantage of your nature, allowing them to control you like they do the humans," another spat out noun. "I have mental capacities beyond that of Einstein, as is evidenced by my contact to your mind. But I can also do… something more fun." His hand, having finished with my pain ridden breast, trailed down my stomach, making me shiver against my will. His hand snaked underneath the hem of my shirt, ghosting over my stomach before tracing the waistline of my pants.

At his touch, a sickly sweet feeling crept through me. My body responded despite my disgust. I felt like a fine tuned string being plucked by this monster's hands. My breath huffed out. He chuckled in the back of his throat, his acidic eyes locked with my own, the snake-like gaze holding me in place against my will.

"Pheromones are a powerful thing are they not? Unfortunately, I can only hold the will of women. It's the reason all of my torturers are men. And now you, _woman_, are now under my complete control. I can make you feel anything I want you to. I can stop you from fighting back, from getting at your powers. I can do anything… I… want," he murmured cruelly. His hands traveled lower only to be interrupted by the tapping of boots on linoleum tiles. His head turned first, mine turned next, freed from his snake-like gaze.

"Bloody alarms… always tripping for no reason…" a guard muttered under his helmet as he trudged in our direction, stopping as he caught sight of us. His gun snapped up in an automatic response. "Projects! Return to your cells immediately or action will be taken immediately!" his gaze must have caught the faint red glow emanating from underneath my shirt, visible even in my compromising position. "Agent Davis, what are you doing down here? Report!" My mouth snapped open at his command, the answer working its way out even when I wished to remain silent. The monster's hand clamped over my mouth, cutting me off. He slid off of me and stalked towards the nervous guard.

"Ah, fresh blood," he laughed darkly, making the guard shift and switch the safety off on his gun. The project moved faster than the man's gun. He tackled him to the ground, smashing the front of his helmet inward with a fist and tearing the man's throat out with his other hand. I looked on in horror as he bent to drink the man's blood. Snapping from the shock, I sprinted down the hall, slamming through the door and taking the stairs three at a time, feeling a stitch form in my side.

"Run, little lamb!" I heard a voice call mockingly at the bottom of the stairwell. I yanked the door open, sprinting down the hallway. "The big bad wolf is coming for you!" I choked out a sob, panting as I rounded corners at a haphazard pace, my bare feet smacking against the cold, hard flooring. I was lost quickly.

"The moon was full, the stars were bright, reflecting in the snow. The hungry pack had game in sight. Cold wind began to blow." I heard his voice sing out gleefully, sadistically. He was closer than I had thought. I sobbed again, slamming into a wall before pushing off and heading down another deserted corridor. _Dear God, please help me! Somebody, anybody, please! Please stop him! _I thought, my mind screaming wildly in my fear. I had no defense against this creature. I couldn't turn into the killer like normal. His powers prevented me from even retaliating against him.

"With panting breath they chased the deer with strong relentless feet. With eight of them there was no fear. Tonight they would eat meat." Closer now. I refused to look back. If I did, he would have me. My legs ached, my heart strained and beat like a hummingbird's wings in their cage. My breath was ragged and every gasp burned like fire. I couldn't keep up this sustained sprint.

"Their yellow eyes could see the doe as she ran up a hill. Compared with them she ran quite slow. Tonight would be a kill." He was right on me, I could almost feel his hot breath creeping down my neck. A wall loomed up and I slammed into it at full force, pushing off with a cry of pain and despair. _Hold on, little one_, a voice whispered inside my head, the calm tone doing nothing to suppress my fears. _He's coming._ What? Who's coming?

I heard his dark laugh. Instinctively, I looked behind. Then up. _Shit._ He was crawling along the walls like a fucking _spider_. I turned and cried out loud, only a gasp escaping as I fought for air.

"Much closer now, they heard her run, their meal was just ahead. Spreading out, they knew they'd won. Soon she would be…" I felt a force tackle me from behind, sending me crashing head first into a metal wall. I heard the crack and pain blossomed like a thorned flower in my head. Warm, sticky blood flowed from the wound. He held me down, grinning like some twisted Cheshire cat. He leaned down and whispered in m ear. "…dead!"

"Such a pretty little thing. I should show you something special. The lab rats don't even know I can do this, but I've taken quite a liking to you," he said casually. He lifted a hand from my throat, using the other to pin me down. A grotesque fingernail, curved and claw-like, hovered above my face. I fixed my eyes on that, refusing to look into his acid eyes. He let a drop of liquid, the same shade as his eyes, collect into a droplet on his nail. He flicked out a hand and the drop flew off to splatter against the wall. I watched in growing fear as the drop ate through solid metal. "I've always fancied myself an artist. Of course, I'll tone it down a bit so I don't kill you, but…" he mused to himself, finger tapping his chin. I picked up on his plan. I twisted my face away from his lowering hand.

He placed the tip of the nail against my hairline, grabbing my chin to hold my head still. My heart beat hard enough to burst from my chest. The pain started as he slowly traced his nail in a jagged line down my face, over my jaw line, down my neck, and crossing across my chest plate, tearing through the shirt and stopping just above my heart. He began pressing harder, digging the fingernail into the skin.

It was beyond reason and reality. The line he traced hissed and bubbled, the skin slowly burning away. The pain was… incomprehensible. Beyond that which even the device on my chest could produce. This was not heat, nor drug, nor scratch. This was as much burning fury in a concentrated area as I never thought possible. I began to wish for my heart to beat out of my chest, just to end this pain and let me die. Anything was better. I couldn't hear my own voice, so great was the roaring in my ears. I know something came out as my body writhed and arched under his self-made chemical acid. He laughed as if it was the most enjoyable sight in the world. I continued keening my pain, wishing he would kill me like he had the guard, just end it quickly. I did not care if he defiled my remains. Anything to get the pain away from my conscious form.

I vaguely felt his body pulled off of mine with an angry snarl from his attacker. A shadow shifted over me and voices echoed loudly through my head, never making any remote sense as I descended into madness. The figures clashed as I felt my heartbeat slow and the pain escalate to a fevered pitch and fall to a throb as the black depths closed in and I fell into the pits of my own sub consciousness.

**A/N: This isn't the end. I hope you like my idea for the next chapter.**


	8. A Change of Face Wesker's POV

**(Wesker's POV. Alena **_**is **_**down and out for the count, remember?)**

**I'm sosososososo sorry for the long delay. I just got back from being away for two whole weeks and before that I was so relieved with the **_**idea**_** of being free from my academic worries that I was literally in a vegetative state with no motivation to write anything. Oh, and anyone seen the half-season finale of **_**Doctor Who**_**? Totally called the big reveal from the moment she said she was pregnant in the season premier!**

*RE*RE*

_Dear God, please help me! Somebody, anybody, please! Please stop him! _I heard. I paused in my typing, looking up and around the deserted lab. The fluorescent light overhead was dim, buzzing softly with electricity. That voice… it called out to me like a siren song. I felt the urge to investigate. Since when was that my nature? But the scent hit me soon afterwards. The scent of acid and rain, burning fabric and the bitter scent of alcohol. He was out. I cracked my jaw, standing and moving from the room, striding quickly down the hall. My coat flapped behind me, flaring out like the wings of a raven. Soft voices murmured in my head, coaxing me to go faster. To stop the menace.

A keening wail, screaming for release broke the singular sound of air ventilators humming mechanically. I picked up my pace to a run, flashing past hallways and rooms with a set destination. I needed no guide. I knew where to go without trying. Another scent joined the first.

These tendrils of scent wrapped around me like a woman wraps herself around a lover. They completely blocked out Project Alexander's harsh smell. The smell of wildflowers and sunshine, crimson rivers and diamonds hidden in the deepest caverns overpowered the odor emitting from the wondrous abomination. But there was an overtone to them, covering the sunshine and diamonds with the smell of blood, acid, and burning fabric.

Alena.

Alexander had Alena.

Alexander had Alena and was… making her cry out in more pain than even I had inflicted.

I sped up, my consciousness taking on a more urgent tone. I rounded the corner and sped down the hall faster than any human. Faster than Alice ever could have moved. He had her on the ground. Her legs suck out from beneath his, writhing and flailing spasmodically. I leapt forward with a snarl, grabbing his shirt and throwing his body the length of the hall to have him slam against the far wall. I knelt down in front of her.

Alena's eyes moved quickly back and forth, completely oblivious to my presence. A jagged tear down her face, throat and chest oozed with a mixture of her blood and Alexander's acid. The skin hissed and flaked. She keened out, crying and sobbing hysterically as her mind sank farther into itself to rid herself of the pain. The wound wasn't healing. Why wasn't it healing? This shouldn't have continued to fester and burn at this rate. Without thinking, I ripped off one leather glove, using my teeth to rip open the pad of one finger. I pressed the bloody digit to the wound, quickly moving it down the line. With my blood mixing into the wound, the wound began to close rapidly. Her DNA would absorb and destroy my own, so I stood and turned, facing my opponent as he stalked gleefully down the hallway. His eyes flicked to Alena and back up to me. He grinned wider.

"She's your little pet, is she not?" he asked, laughing manically. I looked at him, removing my glasses and tucking them away into a pocket. "Does she know? I suppose not, or she would have been able to fight me off. Do you know she begged for me not to take her? I'm guessing you haven't told her _anything_! As if I would defile either of us that way!" He shuddered. "I've seen into her mind, boss man," I stopped moving forward, surprised. He was progressing rapidly in his development. "Oh, yes! She's a very interesting mind set! I've seen all her dreams, desires, momentary lusts, and her potential. You should kill her. She'll destroy us all if you keep her on this leash of yours. Break her, take her, and make her burn, I'd say. I'm surprised you haven't even tried to yet! It's inevitable you know, that thing you're denying. The more you resist the harder the temptation becomes to forget. But then again, you never have been good at accepting anything you see as a shortcoming, have you?" he giggled girlishly. I snarled and lunged forward, grappling with him.

We moved like lions, power and grace mixed with speed and human intelligence. My angry red eyes burning into his manic green pools, he laughed as he faced death. If I could hold him for a millisecond, I could snap his neck, giving me the few moments I needed to dismember him before he repaired himself. He kept trying to sneak around me, trying to get to Alena.

I snarled as he ducked under my arm with reflexes faster than any human or animal. He lunged for Alena's broken body. I leapt over his low slung body and lowered my shoulder to catch him. His head snapped back at the sudden loss of momentum and the force of his sternum snapping. He fell backwards, his arms cracking as he rotated his limbs quickly, landing in a crab position. He grinned wildly, his arms and legs cracking as he stood up smoothly, healing as quickly as I did.

He shifted his body leaning forward, taking a step to the right around me. I shifted to mirror his movements. He grinned even wider, eyes glinting in sadistic glee. He moved faster than a human's eyes could follow in the polar opposite direction and I moved with him, catching him over my arm and slamming him into the ground, snapping his neck with a sharp twist.

With his body temporarily paralyzed, I reached inside my coat for the syringe to incapacitate him until he could be removed. He laughed, completely nonplussed.

"I'll get out again, you know. She'll get me out." He said confidently. Alena got him out? I doubt she would do it again if this was her reward.

"You'll be kept under surveillance, security doubled, and it's unlikely that I'll ever let you off the drugs," I said softly. Alexander smiled smugly as I crouched next to him, flicking the needle.

"Ah, but you forget. She is a woman," he said slowly, as if instructing a child.

"How could I forget," I muttered to myself, mind wandering to the first training session. Her soft, slim body twisting in our violent dance with death. She fell as I did, both of us stunned at the sharp impact. She rested her head on my chest, probably not realizing that she wasn't on the ground. Her hand fluttered to a rest on my heart, her own heart beating in fatigue. I couldn't be around her after that. Her scent was burned into my mind, her innocence and ferocity as alluring as any of the busty, brilliant science techs who were quite willing to fall into my bed. I turned back to the matter at hand. "And?" I commented dryly, wondering why he brought up her gender while he was being prepared to be temporarily euthanized. He smiled happily.

"She's a woman," he said as I slipped the needle into the vein in his arm. "And her mind and pheromones are all I need to bend her to my every whim," I stiffened. "She's a sweet little thing. I almost had her before we were so rudely interrupted. How well do you think she'd perform?" I snapped back my hand and slammed the heel of my hand into his face, breaking his nose. Blood gushed from the wound.

"You might want to get some help," I said as I pushed the needle into his arm all the way to the base and squeezed the plunger. "Head wounds tend to bleed heavily." I left him on the ground, turning and pressing the com hidden under the lapel of my coat. "Pick up in sector 27. Maximum security subject. Medical emergency in sector 27. On route to medical bay. Prepare to treat acid burns and open wounds." A tinny voice confirmed my orders and I crouched by Alena, pushing the hair out of her face and picking her up, holding her bridal style, albeit an unconscious bride.

Her face slumped sideways, her loose hair falling over to cover up her head. The wound faced the ground, but I could see the ragged line Alexander's claw made. It trailed over her neck and crossed over her breastplate to end in a thick circle. He had tortured and maimed her before attempting to dig out her heart. It was his M.O.

Alena was uncomfortably still in my arms, her muscles inert and her breathing shallow enough that even I had to strain a little to hear it. I sped up, doors and hallways blurring as they passed in a rush. Why wasn't this foolish project healing?

The medical bay opened at my voice command and the waiting doctors relieved me of my unconscious burden. With clinical logic and urgency, they quickly deposited her onto a gurney, sensors and wires being strapped to her body with the precision gained only from practice. Monitors began beeping, showing elevated neurological and cardiac activity. With the amount of unconscious activity, she should either be in a severe stroke or awake. Neither seemed to be the case. I suppressed the tic in my jaw and stood watching the scene with a blank face.

With her wound having been cleaned and bandaged, (my blood seemed to do nothing to heal it) the doctor moved her to a more permanent bed, the machines surrounding her body in the crisply white and eerily sterile hospital ward. I paced over to give the doctor his instructions.

"Alert me as soon as she awakes." I said, my voice rumbling in the quiet atmosphere. He nodded nervously and I turned away. As soon as I did, the machines began to beep and scream with increasing intensity. A small hand shot out at the same moment and held my wrist in an iron tight grip. I turned. In the space of a second, I took in the computers telling me that with brain and heart activity this high, the woman in front of me should be dead, the doctors and nurses clamoring to each other, two nurses administering what appeared to be an overdose of morphine into an IV, a growling, prone figure ripping the IV cord from her arm, and an angry female face framed by dark curls snarling up at me with teeth bared and eyes black as the void of space.

"You owe me one hell of an explanation, Wesker." Alena growled softly.


	9. Memory Bank Withdrawal

I felt like I was floating and falling all at the same time. The discomforting sensation disappeared as I landed on my back on the tightly packed dirt. Hard. A huff of air escaped as my limbs slapped down beside my body. I sat up on my elbows, one hand coming up to rub my throbbing head. My fingers tangled into my loose hair. I drew back in confusion, picking up the long, brown strands that had curled themselves around my ungloved digits. I looked down. I was wearing a float-y sundress. A freaking _sundress_. I never wore those even before the infection. They were just as revealing and illogical as before, so why on earth was I wearing one now?

I stood as I began to take in my surroundings. At first blurry and indistinct, the area around me soon revolved into a field of long grass and wildflowers. The sky was, as it should be, sky blue and as cloudless as I had ever seen it. A warm breeze blew though, ruffling the strands of yellow-green flora, the hem of my dress, and my hair. I inhaled deeply, closing my eyes with a small smile as the fresh scent of warm grass and the light scent of native flowers followed in the wind's wake. This was perfect. Too perfect. My eyes snapped open. I whirled, suddenly on the defensive. The last time I had been anywhere like this was when _he_ had beaten the bloody blue blazes out of me to prove a point. My eyes narrowed as I searched the tall grass for his form.

"No need to worry, deary," a rough female voice cackled. "He's not here. It's just us gals." I whirled, hands stiffening into claws. I blinked in surprise. I was looking at…well, me. To be exact, two me's. I'd seen them…me… before, but only in the back of my mind's eye.

"Relax, child," the me on the right said with absolute calm. She… I… stood tall and gave off an air of perfect confidence. I'd never seen someone look more confident to be themselves. That is, other than Wesker, of course. "We are the only ones allowed in here. This is, after all, our mind." I rubbed my eyes tiredly.

"Oh, god. I must be schizophrenic." I groaned. If this was my head, then I was talking to myself. The me on the left snarled and I looked over to see the perfect mirror image of me if I was animalistic and primitive. She bared her teeth.

"You think this is fake?" she snapped angrily. The other me placed a hand over her arm, resting it about a foot over the actual flesh as if she wasn't able to physically touch her. The angry one shrugged her off violently. "No wonder you don't have complete control yet! If we aren't able to accept us as we are, the swings are going to continue and get worse, sweet cheeks!" It took me a moment to untangle her use of nouns and pronouns before I took in her words.

"If I'm not going crazy, then where the hell am I?" I asked, spreading my arms in question before crossing them over my chest. She glared at me and the perfect me tutted under her breath. She moved away from the seething animal version of me. She stepped closer, holding out one hand in invitation.

"Would you like us to explain, child?" I nodded, but didn't take her hand. She sighed and gave a hard look in the other's direction. She grumbled as she stuck out a clawed hand in the same manner as the confident me. Now I was even less willing to take either of their hands. "Little one, we can show you everything about yourself. Until now, you've had three separate consciousnesses. We both pick up what you miss and have information about us… you… that you don't."

"How?" Was all I could think to ask.

"We were matured to this form and mind when you were born." Logic said simply.

"Yeah," muttered Instinct bitterly. "Can you imagine being a wise, old woman like me having to contend for years with a drooling, idiotic child and this twat?" she jerked her head in my direction first and then in Logic's. I blinked twice stupidly and shook my head slowly. "It's frustrating." She said simply. Logic elbowed her without touching her once again. It was as if there was an impassable force field between the two of them.

"What are you, exactly?" I said quietly as I took their hands. There was a pause when my entire mind world seemed to lose all sensation and sound.

"The T-virus." They said in unison. I sucked in a sharp breath and tried to pull back. But too late. Always too late.

A black void swallowed all three of us….me… until we were left floating with no sense of direction. They looked calm, but my head flipped in all directions as I tried to understand my current predicament. T-Virus? How were they the T-Virus? I remembered hearing it before, but only in rumor and murmurs. It was the cause of the zombie apocalypse. Umbrella's wicked creation that had destroyed my world, both on the micro and macro level.

If they were me and the T-Virus, that meant what exactly? As far as I could recall, I hadn't tried to turn anyone into my dinner lately, so I couldn't be infected… could I? But before I had time to consider the implications, color and sound revolved and settled into a scene around me.

"She's just a child!" A female voice exclaimed quietly. Colors became more focused as the scene set and I became aware that I was seeing though the eyes of someone else. Everything was huge and distended and most of what I saw was a sterile, white ceiling. My mom was holding me, cradling me against her chest.

"As are the others!" A male voice hissed in frustration. Dad… _my _dad.

"She's the only one already incubated-"

"What about the other girl? The other subject? Do you intend to steal her as well? And the others? The one's they're waiting to infect?"

"I-I… I don't know…" my mom admitted. "But just one! Think about it! Just one child saved from a life of experiments and tests. And Christina has promised to help keep the virus dormant through medication. This is possible, Charles! We know how to avoid Umbrella. We know that this is wrong and cruel and unnatural! Please… you know I can't do it without you, love. If you deny me this, I'll never speak of it again, but I will always think of it. The lost chance for us to save one. _Just. One. Child._" My mom pleaded with my dad to understand her own situation. I hadn't remembered this. I knew instinctively I was looking on from my own gaze as a baby.

"… Very well," my dad agreed. A beatific smile lit up my mother's face. "Well, we can't call her Project A-sub-a. Do you have a name?"

"Alena," my mother responded immediately. "It means 'light'."

The scene faded out to another. It was from my early childhood. My parents were in the next room over and I was intently focused on stacking the colorful, waxy wooden blocks before me into a lopsided tower. As an adult, I focused on my parents voices over my own childish pastime.

"You didn't see him, Charles!" my mother hissed in anger and fear. "He actually spoke to her. Right in front of me! They know where we are and they want us to know! It's a game that they're willing to drag out as far as they like! We've got to leave. Now!"

"I understand, Tania," my dad said soothingly. "It'll be alright. We'll pack up and leave tonight. We'll change our names and leave no trace, same as usual. Alena has no idea what she is, right?"

"He didn't tell her anything, just asked her name and talked to her like any adult would to a little kid. I burned the doll she handed him though. I think he slipped a tracker into it."

The scene changed again, the blur of colors and sounds making me want to grip my head. A nauseous feeling griped me until the view settled once again. This time it was our house in Alabama. I was sitting at the kitchen, doing my homework with my dad. Math never was my strong suit. My mom was on the phone in the background, but I was too focused on my algebra problems to care. Vaguely, I noticed that the knuckles on my right hand were bandaged.

"She broke his neck, Christina!" my mom said quietly into the phone receiver. Logic and Instinct made it possible for me to hear the tinny voice coming out of the phone.

"Is it possible she just hit him in a really unlucky spot?" Another woman sighed over the phone.

"She punched him in the nose, Cee. Not the neck, not the clavicle. The kid is in critical condition. He's in a coma with severe brain damage and face and neck trauma. He may not make it through the night."

"I'll up the dose of suppressant in her medication. Might I ask _why_ she felt the need to punch the varsity football captain's nose?" the woman, Christina, asked. My mom sighed in annoyance.

"You remember her parentage yes?" my mom asked the woman. A noise of agreement was made. "He was tormenting her for being half-Hispanic. He apparently decided that because of her heritage, she should pay him to make her work. Alena said that… he tried to take her lunch money in a… less than… appropriate… manner. So she punched him." There was a moment of silence before Christina burst out in hysterics.

"Well, she's got spunk! I'll definitely give her that!" she laughed as the scene faded back into the black vacuum and at last into the perfect field.

I sat down hard as Logic and Instinct released me.

"You-you said… that you were… the T-Virus?" I stammered in panic. They looked at me coolly, not denying my words. "S-so, that means I-I'm… infected?" Again, no response. I put my head in my hands. Infected. Infected. Infected. It ran like a mantra through m head.

"Why?" I asked.

"You're an experiment. Another creation of Umbrella." Logic answered softly. I groaned.

"I'm going to _kill_ something. Whether on purpose or accident remains to be seen," Instinct cackled. "You haven't let me have control since the Umbrella ambush in Pax."

"That was not my fault!" I snapped angrily. I grabbed my head as it throbbed painfully. "I didn't want to kill anyone." I said softly.

"Liar." Instinct said bluntly. Logic shook her head in an attempt to gain control, causing Instinct to sneer.

"Child, unless you let us in and stop rejecting the virus, you won't be able to control your situation anymore than you already are," Logic murmured. I shook my head, muttering "Can't. Won't. Why!" I shouted suddenly.

"Because they can, which means you can," she said. "And remember this: You are not alone."

"Yeah, I am actually," I snarled. "The others are insane, tyrannical, murderous bastards intent on my mental and physical destruction."

"Not true," she said without any emotion. "Alexander was driven insane by the strain of virus he was infected with. They waited too long. He was a child. The sudden onset of power and hunger drove him mad within his own mind. Wesker…"

"Is a homicidal, psychotic, anti-social asshole." I growled.

"You know full well you don't believe that." She said gently.

"And how would you know?"

"Because I don't believe that." I was stopped into silence. She went forward without hesitation. "You know what you have to do child. We can send you back if you accept this." She looked at me expectantly. My shoulders slumped in defeat.

"I have no choice, do I?" I sighed.

"Not really." Instinct laughed.

"With us, you can finally become a complete person. So far, you've retained a human conscience with an enhanced mind and body. With us, you can have the logic of an advanced mind and the senses of a primal being. The T-Virus was designed to create the perfect beings. It has failed and succeeded." Logic explained as she and Instinct moved forward to grasp my shoulders. Logic began to disappear, as if she was fading into me.

Instinct leaned forward to whisper into my ear as she too began to fade. "With light and darkness creeping in, the only clear path is one of sin. Accept and deny the path of life, and your only way is one of strife. Follow Alice down the rabbit hole. Fall into your destined role. But do not let fate decide. Follow your heart and your mind." She whispered something lower and I felt the blood drain from my face as my eyes grew wider. Instinct disappeared completely and the world around me vanished to be replaced by one of chaos.

Incessant beeping caused a new headache to form quickly. Humans shouting became a symphony of panic and stress. A sharp stinging in my arm and hand made me look down. Needles. I hated needles. I ripped them out, ignoring the blood points that welled up almost instantly. A male-nurse tried to restrain me by grabbing my wrists. I threw him off with little effort. I looked around, snarling at the foolish humans trying to make sense of me medically. Then I saw him. Wesker. My hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, yanking him slightly closer. I saw everything so much clearer. Colors brighter, sharper, more visible in every spectrum. Wesker looked down, a glint of surprise momentarily lighting up the red, cat-like eyes behind his glasses.

"You owe me one hell of an explanation, Wesker." I growled.


	10. Deception and Inception

**Dear Lord, please forgive me for the wait I've given these lovely readers.****.. I am so sorry for the wait, guys. It's been a long... oh wow. Yup, long time. School is the pits I tell you. So much work, so little time. Hopefully this chapter makes up for it. If not, there's more coming round the bend. Oh, and sorry if the two seem a little out of character. It was hard to write this, but it had to be done.**

* * *

Five minutes later, Wesker was striding at an impossibly quick pace ahead of me. Despite the fact that I now had little trouble keeping up, it annoyed me to no end that he felt the need to outpace my short legged stride with his own looming frame.

It really hadn't been too difficult to get out of the infirmary. I was pissed off enough that a glare and a snarl sent towards any forward medical staff had them rushing off to corners of the building unknown. They had tried ganging up on me, using the force of numbers to convince me that I needed to stay overnight for further examination. It was then that Wesker, who had slipped from my grip within moments of my awakening, decided to use his authority to speed up the process.

"She's coming with me." He stated firmly. Even without shouting, his voice silenced every staff member in the vicinity. I had leapt from the uncomfortable hospital bed and followed him as he left, tugging my torn clothing together in an attempt to regain a little modesty. Some kind, but nameless, doctor had thrown her jacket at me before I left, having noticed and taken pity on my clothing situation and present company.

This had brought me to the present moment. I gratefully slipped the coat on, leaving it unzipped for the time being. I glared at Wesker's broad back, sneering at the shallow claw lines down the back of his coat. At the same time, I felt a strange tug on the skin of my face and the memory of my pre-hospitalization encounter with the mad man named Alexander returned in a rush. My stomach dropped and the images in my head returned to a scene of blood and pain and claws like acid. I felt as if I had been drenched in a torrent of ice water. My hand shook as I lifted it slowly to my face. What I found there brought a sob to my lips.

The raised skin unique to thick scar tissue was abundant upon my features as I ran my fingers lightly over the line stretching from my temple, crossing over my face, trailing down the column of my neck and ending over my heart. Another sob bubbled up from my chest as I buried my head in my hands and slid down the wall with my knees pressed up to my chest.

"Elena." Wesker spoke suddenly from in front of me. I didn't want to face him. I couldn't. This was, for me, the last straw on the camel's back. It was another misfortune to put with my already enormous collection of previous tragedies. It might sound extremely self-pitying, because it was, but I knew I had it worse than most others. Yes, everyone lived in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, but how many of them were the unwilling slaves of Umbrella?

Through my hyperventilation I heard Wesker sigh out through his nose in frustration before standing up. Hoping he'd leave me to wallow in my self-pity in the middle of the empty hallway, I was shocked when I felt his hands slide under me and lift me easily off the ground. Tired, desolate, and confused, I was quite willing to pretend for a moment that someone in this harsh world actually cared. As he carried me bridal style down the corridor, I raised my arms to link around his neck and buried my face in the warm leather of his jacket. He stiffened in surprise before relaxing slightly.

He finally stopped in front of a uniformly familiar door. Keying in the code with my weight balanced on a forearm, he stepped inside and raised the light levels to a comfortably dim level with a terse voice command. I felt a soft surface sink underneath me as he put me down, gently releasing my grip around his neck as the plush chair held my weight. He stood up, straightening his coat before coolly taking the seat opposite me, removing his glasses in the process.

We sat in silence in the sparsely decorated, but still elegant, office for quite some time until, my fingers itching, I reached up to feel the jagged scar on my face with a sense of disbelief. Eyes glazed over, my hand went up and was stopped suddenly by a firm grip on my wrists.

"Don't." he growled softly. Eyes downcast, I nodded once in acquiescence and nervously twisted my fingers together in my lap. The hum of the air conditioning system filled the void of conversation. I growled under my breath, finally coming to a decision.

"I want answers," I said quietly. He made no move to respond, so I continued after a beat. "I want _truthful_ answers. No more smoke and mirrors, Wesker. You owe me that much."

"I owe you nothing," he replied, his voice hard with authority. I snorted derisively.

"Bullshit. You and your corporation of madmen caused this. You may not have personally injected me with the T-Virus, but your people did and now I want repayment-"I laughed humorlessly.

"You think that you are the only one of us who has suffered at the hands of the T-Virus?" he snarled suddenly, moving in a blur to put his hands on my armrests, leaning in threateningly close to my face. "You have no idea what the T-Virus is, much less what it's done."

"I know enough," I snapped back angrily, rising and pushing him back. "I know that it's killed everything I love and I want answers. If I don't get them from you, I'm willing to bring down this entire facility to get them. Don't think I'm not interested in finding out exactly how far my abilities go." I must have lost my mind. I was threatening the most powerful man I knew. To his _face_. And to my disbelief, I really didn't care. My ire grew as I watched him stand there silently, his arms crossed and not one pale blond hair out of place. I met his red, cat-like gaze defiantly, refusing to back down, my shock long thrown off.

He leaned forward suddenly, hand stretching out toward my chest. Before I could move away, he plucked the red, spidery device from my chest. I hissed in pain as the needles withdrew from my skin. He looked at it once, emotionless and silent, before crushing it with a sharp movement.

"I think that this is now unneeded." He murmured. I stared at him as if he had gone insane.

"You aren't worried that I'm going to run or kill you?" I asked in shocked amusement. He smirked confidently.

"You've proven my suspicions very well, Ms. Davis," he said arrogantly, retaking his seat smoothly. "You're welcome to go if you wish, however. The same for your… _attempt_ to kill me." he spread his hands, gesturing for me to either sit back down or make a sprint for the door. Glaring daggers at him, I sat back down in huff.

"Fine," I growled, crossing my arms. "Questions first…" I paused, realizing that I hadn't thought of what I would ask him when I had the chance. If I had the chance. I blinked, trying to organize my thoughts. He spoke for me.

"I believe your first question would be, 'Why me?'" he said, one brow arching as he pinned me with his glowing eyes. I nodded in affirmation, as that was one of my primary wonders. He looked at me for a moment longer before starting in an almost disinterested tone.

"The man and woman you think to be your parents are, in fact, in no way related to you. Your mother in unknown, just another hooker Umbrella picked up off the streets to impregnate. You are one of fourteen children to have been injected with the T-Virus in accordance with Umbrella's "Progeny Program". Seven pairs of siblings were created, all with different fathers and each pair with the same donor mother. At different stages of their development each child was to be injected with a different strain of the T-Virus. Each strain was supposed to be specially developed for that child's unique genetic code. You were one of the children injected while still in the stem cell embryonic stage. Others, like Alexander, were injected sometime in their childhood. Others were allowed to develop into their teens or early adult hood before injection." He paused momentarily, gazing at me steadily to gauge my reaction. I kept my face stony, refusing to give him any weakness.

"A majority of the children became insane or turned into the mindless creatures that roam the surface. All of the subjects injected during adulthood turned, excepting two."

I held up a hand, silencing him. Keeping my gaze fixed on the floor between our chairs, I breathed deep, held it, and let it out through my mouth in a rush.

"Are you telling me that you tested a potentially fatal virus… on _children_?" I asked quietly. His continued silence was all the answer I needed. My gaze snapped up and I snarled angrily. "You son of a motherfucking _bitch_!"

I leapt at him with hands outstretched, catching his lapels and forcing him over the chair. He grabbed the hood of my jacket and sent me tumbling over him as the chair tipped over in what seemed like slow motion. I used my momentum to twist my body over in flight, landing on all fours before pushing off my back legs to attack Wesker again. He caught my shoulders as we collided, tossing me over his head while I grabbed him around his neck. We landed on top of the burnished desk, with him pinning me down as the sparse office supplies on the surface of the hard oak scattered. I snarled, shrieking obscenities at him and cursing everything about his existence as I struggled for release.

He waited patiently while I raged until I had worked myself out, calming into a silently steaming fury. He stared down at me silently, head cocked like a curious animal.

"It's strange," he said off handedly. "Your eyes have evolved quite like mine." I looked at him in annoyed curiosity. He let me up, moving slowly. Reaching to the far side of his desk, he plucked the silver placard from the edge of the wood and handed it to me. I snatched it away in a bad temper, flicking my eyes down to catch the clear reflection in the metal.

I was greeted with a pair of eerie eyes. While I had known about the T-Virus causing my eyes to become pitch black, they had progressed into another level of creepy. Instead of an iris and pupil, a pool of bright blue had formed in the center of my black eye. It had no pupil and I still had no whites, only a deep black around the uniform blue of the iris.

I dropped the silver plate, dropping my head into my hands as I snarled.

"Why? Why? WHY?" I growled, voice rising. "I had to be turned into a freak! A freak! Damn it all-"Wesker grabbed my hands, forcing them down with a sharp tug.

"You are not a freak, Ms. Davis," he said firmly, anger raging behind his red eyes. "We have been given a gift others cannot bear. In this world we are gods."

"No!" I shouted, stumbling back from him. I advanced on him, thrusting my pointer finger into his chest for emphasis. "We are not human! We are not natural! This, this- mutation is nothing but the work of sick men who wanted to be gods. We are just playthings and creatures not meant to exist!" By now, I had backed him up to the wall using my own strength. As I opened my mouth to continue my angered rant, he grabbed my shoulder, twisting me around so that our positions were reversed.

"And what, may I ask, is so wonderful about being _human_?" he spat out the word at the end of his calm statement.

"Let me go." I snarled up at him as he loomed over me.

"Answer my question, Ms. Davis. Why do you consider humanity so important? They are weak, meaningless, and expendable. We are progress and power. We can shape the world with a thought and no one can stand in our way. Humans are easily corrupted. So tell me, why do you want to be human?"

"Because it stops me from becoming a heartless sociopath like you and Alexander!" I screamed. I was angry, furious. I wanted him to hurt as I was hurting. The influx of information was too much. I was the daughter of a whore and an unknown. My parents (how could I consider them anything else after all this time?) died in vain. This man was turning my world even more upside down and I was screaming for release on the inside. I wanted him to hurt. I wanted him to hurt now.

And, for some strange reason, I think he did. He had probably been insulted, either behind his back in secret or to his face by the rebel Arcadians. He had probably been called far worse things than anything I could think of and yet, when I screamed at him, an emotion, yes, an actual emotion, flickered across his face.

It came and went as fast as a heartbeat and I barely saw it before he regained his utterly cool composure. He released my shoulders and stepped back. Gazing at me with empty eyes, his gaze lingered on my face for several minutes, making me inwardly squirm under his scrutiny. But I would not back down from him again. He had released me from the control of the spider drugs. I was no longer under his command. I would no longer come at his beck and call. If he had nothing left to say, he could do nothing to stop me from leaving other than shooting me dead. I could not remain here in this haven for killers. Sure, I had killed plenty since the outbreak, but only in self defense, or the presumed protection of others. Never had I purposely experimented upon another living being. And I was one of those experiments.

Wesker moved silently to stand behind his desk. Pressing a button on the edge of the wood, a screen and keyboard rose out of uncovered slots on the surface. He looked up at me shortly, his eyes demanding that I approach. I did, not out of submission, but out of curiosity at this sudden change in manner.

Keying in several phrases with short keystrokes, he stepped back, gesturing for me to take his place. I moved forward, keeping my eyes on his form until necessity demanded that I bend down slightly to look at the screens.

Displayed was a high quality map of the world. Each nation on the map was outlined in white and had at least five bright red dots. The United States had at least thirty dots, some larger than others.

"What is this?" I asked quietly, keeping my gaze focused on the map. Wesker shifted behind me until I could feel his body heat directly beside me.

"This is a satellite image of the planet. Each major city is marked with a dot." He reached around me and pressed a few buttons. The dot where I thought Cincinnati might be flickered for a moment before the screen became a close up aerial view of the city. Teeming masses of the undead were clustered in the city limits, more trickling in with each second. I was stunned. So many. That had to be more than the population of the city. The zombies seemed to make concentric rings around the center of the city.

"I don't understand-"I broke off when the screen glared bright white. I reeled back, covering my light sensitive eyes from the radiance. Only Wesker's arm around my back prevented me from falling over backward. I slowly lowered my hands. The screen, having adjusted to the sudden light change, showed an ever enlarging blue dome. I saw the top of a diademed building fall into the electric field as the base crumbled first. It swiftly engulfed the city and continued moving outwards. A row of numbers on the bottom of the screen registered the diameter of the dome in live time. The bright blue orb finally flickered and faded out when the counter reached exactly 50 miles in diameter. The dome disappeared without a trace, leaving behind only a red hot pit that quickly began filling with water from the Ohio River and all its tributaries.

I stood straight up, staring in horror at the screen as it showed the remnants of one of the largest cities in America and its surrounding towns. The screen flickered back to a map of the world. Where there had been red dots, now there were blue circles of varying diameter scattered across the globe. Moscow was a large blue dot, as was Miami and New York. Paris was also a blue crater with the dot symbolizing Shanghai surpassing all others in size. A majority of the planet was still left an untouched shade of green or sandy brown or icy white.

"What have you done?" I whispered in shock. The arm still wrapped around my waist drew me in closer to Wesker's side. I looked up into his ruby eyes as he gazed down into mine with something akin to pride.

"I've created a world that's once again safe for your precious humanity. All 1.5 million humans."


End file.
